HINDLE 
WAKES 

A    "PLA  Y 

Sy  STANLEY 
HO  UGH  TON 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


\ 


HINDLE    WAKES 


Amateur  Societies  wshing  to  perform  this 
play  must  apply  to  Messrs.  Samuel  French^ 
Ltd.,  26,  Southampton  Street,  Strand,  London, 
for  permission.  lliis  application  should  he 
made  some  considerahle  time  hefore  the  in- 
tended representation,  as  existing  contracts 
might  necessitate  the  permission  heing  withheld. 


H 


INDLE   WAKES 

A  Play  in  Three  Acts,  by 
STANLEY     HOUGHTON 


Ji. 


M.S.C 


BOSTON  :    JOHN   W.  LUCE   &   COMPANY 
LONDON  :    SIDGWICK   &   JACKSON,  LTD. 


3   ADAM    STREET,  W.C. 


MCMXIII 


078  Hsr 


Entered  at  the  Library  of  Congress,  Washington,  U.S.A. 
All  rig/its  reserved. 


First  Impression,  July,   I912. 
Second  Impression,  September,  19 12. 
Third  Impression,  November,  1912. 
Fourth  Impression,  January,  1913. 


HiNDLE  Wakes  was  first  produced  by  Miss  Horniman's 
Repertory  Company  from  the  Gaiety  Theatre,  Man- 
chester, before  the  Incorporated  Stage  Society,  at  the 
Aldwych  Theatre,  on  Sunday,  June  16th,  1912,  with 
the  following  cast : — 


Mrs.  Hawthorn  . 
Christopher  Hawthorn 
Fanny  Ha\\i:horn 
Mrs.  Jeffcote 
Nathaniel  Jeffcote 
Alan  Jeffcote 
Sir  Timothy  Farrar 
Beatrice  Farrar  . 
Ada    . 


Ada  King 
Charles  Bibby 
Edyth  Goodall 
Daisy  England 
Herbekt  Lomas 
J.  V.  Bryant 
Edward  Landor 
Sybil  Thorndike 
Hilda  Da  vies 


The  Play  produced  by  Lewis  Casson 


CHARACTERS 

Christopher    Hawthorn,  a  Slasher  at  Daisy  Bank 

Mill 
Mrs.  Hawthorn,  his  Wife 

Fanny    Hawthorn,  their   Daughter,  a   Weaver   at 

Daisy  Bank  Mill 

Nathaniel  Jeffcote,  Owner  of  Daisy  Bank  Mill 

Mrs.  Jeffcote,  his  Wife 

Alan  Jeffcote,  their  Son 

Sir  Timothy  Farrar,  Chairman  of  the  Education 

Committee  at  Hindle 

Beatrice  Farrar,  his  Daughter 

Ada,  Maid  at  Bank  Top 


SCENES 

Act  I. — Scene  1.     Kitchen  of  the  Hawthorns'  house 

137,  Burnley  Road,  Hindle. 
Bank  Holiday,  Monday,  August 
6th.     9  p.m. 

Scene  2.  Breakfast-room  of  the  JefFcotes' 
house,  Bank  Top,  Hindle  Vale, 
The  same  night.     10.30  p.m. 

Scene  3.  Breakfast-room  at  the  Jeffcotes'. 
The  same  night.     1  a.m. 

Act  II.     Breakfast-room  at  the  Jeffcotes'.      Tuesday, 
August  7th.     8  p.m. 

Act  III.     Breakfast-room  at  the  Jeffcotes'.     Tuesday, 
August  7th.     9  p.m. 


Note.— The  scene  for  Act  I.,  Scene  1,  should  be  very  small, 
as  a  contrast  to  the  room  at  the  Jeffcotes'.  It  might  well  be 
set  inside  the  other  scene  so  as  to  facilitate  the  quick  change 
between  Scenes  1  and  2,  Act  I. 


NOTE  ON  THE   LANCASHIRE   DIALECT 

This  play  is  about  Lancashire  people.  In  the 
smaller  Lancashire  towns  it  is  quite  usual  for  well- 
to-do  persons,  and  for  persons  who  have  received 
good  educations  at  grammar  schools  and  technical 
schools,  to  drop  more  or  less  into  dialect  when 
familiar,  or  when  excited,  or  to  point  a  joke.  It  is 
even  usual  for  them  to  mix  their  speech  with 
perfect  naturalness.  "You"  and  "thou"  may 
jostle  one  another  in  the  same  sentence,  as,  for 
instance  :  "  You  can't  catch  it,  I  tell  thee."  As  a 
general  rule  they  will  miss  out  a  good  many  "  h's," 
and  will  pronounce  vowels  with  an  open  or  flat 
sound.  The  final  consonants  will  usually  be  clipped. 
At  the  same  time  it  is  unnecessary  laboriously  to 
adopt  any  elaborate  or  fearsome  method  of  pro- 
nunciation. The  Lancashire  dialect  of  to-day — 
except  amongst  the  roughest  class  in  the  most 
out-of-the-way  districts— has  had  many  of  its 
corners  rubbed  off.  It  varies  in  its  accents,  too, 
in  each  separate  town,  that  it  may  be  attempted 
with  impunity  by  all  save  the  most  incompetent. 
The  poorest  attempt  will  probably  be  good  enough 
to  pass  muster  as  "  Manchester,"  which  has 
hardly  a  special  accent  of  its  own,  but  boasts  a 
tongue  composed  of  all  the  other  Lancashire 
dialects  mixed  up,  polished  and  made  politer,  and 
deprived  of  their  raciness. 


HINDLE    WAKES 
ACT  I 

SCENE   1 

The  scene  is  triangular,  representing  a  corner  of  the 
living-room  hitclien  of  No.  137,  Bnrnlci)  Road, 
Hindle,  a  house  rented  at  about  Is.  Qd.  a  iveek. 
In  the  lejt-hand  Kail,  loic  down,  there  is  a  door 
leading  to  the  scullery.  In  the  same  wall,  hut 
further  away  from  tJie  spectator,  is  a  window 
looking  on  to  the  backyard.  A  dresser  stands 
in  front  of  the  irindow.  About  half-way  up 
the  right-hand  wall  is  the  door  leading  to  the 
hall  or  passage.  Nearer,  against  the  same  wall, 
«  high  cupboard  for  china  and  crockery.  The 
fireplace  is  not  risible,  being  in  one  of  the  walls 
not  represented.  However,  down  in  the  L. 
corner  of  the  stage  is  an  arm-chair,  which  stands 
by  the  hearth.  In  the  middle  of  the  room  is  a 
square  table,  with  chairs  on  each  side.  The 
room  is  cheerful  and  comfortable.  It  is  nine 
o'clock  on  a  warm  Angust  evening.  Through  the 
icindow  can  be  seen  the  darkening  sky,  as  the 
blind  is  not  drawn.     Against  the  sky  an  outline 

9 


10  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

of  roof-tO]JS  and  mill  chimneys.  The  only  light 
is  the  dim  twilight  from  the  open  window. 
Thunder  is  in  the  air.  When  the  curtain  rises 
CHRISTOPHER  HAWTHORN,  a  decent,  tchite-hearded 
man  of  nearly  sixty,  is  sitting  in  the  arm-chair 
smoking  aiyipc.  mrs.  hawthorn,  a  keen,  sharp- 
faced  woman  of  fifty-five,  is  standing  gazing  out 
of  the  window.  There  is  a  flash  of  lightning  and 
a  riimhle  of  thunder  far  away. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  It's  passing  over.  There'll  be 
no  rain. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Ay !  We  could  do  with  some 
rain. 

[There  is  a  flash  of  lightning. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Pull  down  the  blind  and  light  the 
gas. 

MRS.   HAWTHORN.      What  for  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     It's  more  cosy-like  with  the  gas. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  You're  not  afraid  of  the 
lifjhtnino;  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     I  want  to  look  at  that  railway  guide. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  What's  the  good  ?  We've  looked 
at  it  twice  already.  There's  no  train  from  Blackpool 
till  five-past  ten,  and  it's  only  just  on  nine  now. 

CHRISTOPHER.     Hapj)en  we've  made  a  mistake. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Ha})pen  we've  not.  Besides, 
what's  the  good  of  a  railway  guide  ?  You  know 
trains  run  as  they  like  on  Bank  Holiday. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Ay !  Perhaps  you're  right.  You 
don't  think  she'll  come  round  by  Manchester  't 


sc.  1]  HINDLE   WAKES  11 

MES.  HAWTHOKN.  What  would  she  be  doing  coming 
round  by  Manchester  ? 

CHKiSTOPHER.  You  Can  get  that  road  from  Black- 
pool. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Yes.  If  she's  coming  from 
Blackpool. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Have  you  thought  she  may  not 
come  at  all  ? 

MRS.  HAWTHORN  [grimly].  Wliat  do  you  take  me 
for  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     You  never  hinted. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  No  use  putting  them  sort  of 
ideas  into  yom'  head. 

[Another  flash  and  a  peal  of  thunder. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Well,  well,  those  are  lucky  who 
haven't  to  travel  at  all  on  Bank  Holiday. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Uuless  they've  got  a  motor-car, 
like  Nat  Jeffcote's  lad. 

CHRISTOPHER.     Nay.     He's  not  got  one. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  What  ?  Why,  I  saw  him  with 
my  own  eyes  setting  out  in  it  last  Saturday  week 
after  the  mill  shut. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Ay  !  He's  gone  off  these  Wakes 
with  his  pal  George  Ramsbottom.  A  couple  of 
thick  beggars,  those  two ! 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Then  what  do  you  mean  telling 
me  he's  not  got  a  motor-car  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  I  Said  he  hadn't  got  one  of  his 
own.  It's  his  father's.  You  don't  catch  Nat 
JefFcote  parting  with  owt  before  his  time.  That's 
how  he  holds  his  lad  in  check,  as  you  might  say. 


12  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 


MES.  HAWTHORN.  Akii  JefFcote's  seldom  short  of 
cash.     He  spends  plenty. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Ay  !  Nat  gives  him  what  he  asks 
for,  and  doesn't  want  to  know  how  he  spends  it  either. 
But  he's  got  to  ask  for  it  first.  Nat  can  stop  supplies 
any  time  if  he's  a  mind. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     That's  likely,  isn't  it  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  Queerer  things  have  happened. 
You  don't  know  Nat  like  I  do.  He's  a  bad  one  to 
get  across  with. 

[Another  flash  and  gentle  peal.     Miis. 
HAWTHORN  gets  up. 

MRS.   HAWTHORN.      I'll  light  the  gas. 

[>S7(c'  pulU  down  the  blind  and  lights 
the  gas. 

CHRISTOPHER.  When  I  met  Nat  this  morning  he 
told  me  that  Alan  had  telegraphed  from  Llandudno 
on  Saturday  asking  for  twenty  pomids. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     From  Llandudno  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  Ay !  Reckon  he's  been  stopping 
there.     Run  short  of  brass. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     And  did  he  send  it  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  Of  coui'se  he  sent  it.  Nat  doesn't 
stint  the  lad.  [He  laughs  quietly.]  Eh,  but  he  can 
get  througli  it,  tliough  ! 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Look  here.  What  are  you  going 
to  say  to  Fanny  when  she  comes  .'* 

CHRISTOPHER.     Ask  her  where  she's  been. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Ask  her  where  she's  been  !  Of 
course  we'll  do  that.     But  suppose  she  won't  tell  us  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     She's  always  been  a  good  girl. 


sc.  1]  HINDLE   WAKES  13 

MES.  HAWTHOKN.  She's  always  gone  her  own  road. 
Suppose  she  tells  iis  to  mind  our  own  business  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  I  reckon  it  is  my  business  to  know 
what  she's  been  up  to. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Dou't  you  forget  it.  And 
don't  let  her  forget  it  either.  If  you  do  I  promise 
you  I  won't ! 

CHRISTOPHER.  All  right.  Where's  that  post- 
card ? 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Little  good  taking  heed  of 
that. 

[CHRISTOPHER  Tises  and  gets  a  inctnre 
'postcard  from  the  dresser. 

CHRISTOPHER  [reading].  "Shall  be  home  before 
late  on  Monday.  Lovely  weather."  [Looking  at  the 
picture.]     North  Pier,  Blackpool.     Very  like,  too. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN  [suddenlij].  Let's  have  a  look. 
When  was  it  posted  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     It's  dated  Sunday. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  That's  nowt  to  go  by.  Anyone 
can  put  the  wrong  date.  What's  the  post-mark .? 
[She  scrutinises  it.]  "  August  5th,  summat  p.m." 
I  can't  make  out  the  time. 

CHRISTOPHER.  August  5th.  That  was  yesterday, 
all  right.     There'd  only  be  one  post  on  Sunday. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Then  she  was  in  Blackpool  up 
to  yesterday,  that's  certain. 

CHRISTOPHER.       Ay  ! 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Well,  it's  a  mystery. 
CHRISTOPHER    [shaking    his    head].      Or   summat 
worse. 


14  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

MRS.  HAWTHOEN.     Eh  ?     You  don't  think  that,  eh  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     I  don't  know  what  to  think. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Nor  me  neither. 

[They  sit  silent  for  a  time.  There  is 
a  rumble  of  thunder,  far  aivay. 
After  it  has  died  away  a  knock 
is  heard  at  the  front  door.  They 
turn  and  look  at  each  other,  mrs. 
HAWTHORN  vises  and  goes  out  in 
silence.  In  afeiv  moments  fanny 
HAWTHORN  comcs  ill,  followed  by 

MRS.      HAWTHORN.        FANNY      is     a 

sturdy,  determined,  dark  little 
girl,  7vith  thick  lips,  a  broad,  short 
nose  and  big  black  eyes.  She  is 
dressed  rather  smartly,  but  not 
very  tastefully.  She  stands  by  the 
table  unpinning  her  hat  and  talk- 
ing cheerfully,  mrs.  hawthorn 
stands  by  the  door  and  Chris- 
topher remains  in  his  chair. 
Both  look  at  fanny  queerly. 
FANNY.     Well,   you   didn't  expect  me  as  soon  as 

this,  I'll  bet,     I  came  round  by  Manchester.     They 

said  the  trains  would  run  better  that  way  to-night. 

Bank  Holiday,  you  know.     I  always  think  they  let 

the   Manchester  trains   througli  before  any  of  the 

others,  don't  you  ? 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     We  didn't  see  how  you  were  to 

get  here  till   past  ten  if  you  came  direct.     We've 

been  looking  up  in  the  Guide. 


sc.  1]  HINDLE   WAKES  15 

FANNY.     No.     I  wasn't  for  coming  direct  at  any 
price.     Mary  wanted  to. 
CHKiSTOPHEK.     Mary ! 

[cHEiSTOPHER     is     obout    to    Hse    in 

astonishment,  hut  mes.  hawthorn 

makes  signs  to  him  hehind  fanny's 

hack. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Oh !   So  Mary  HoUins  wanted 

to  come  back  the  other  way,  did  she  ? 

FANNY.  Yes.  But  I  wasn't  having  any.  They 
said  the  Manchester  trains  would  be — oh !  I've  told 
you  all  that  already. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  So  you'vc  had  a  good  time, 
Fanny. 

FANNY.  Rather !  A  fair  treat,  \^''llat  do  you 
think  ? 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Was  Mary  Hollins  with  you  all 
the  time  ? 

FANNY.     Of  course  she  was. 

[She  steals  a  ijuzzled  glance   at  mrs 

HAWTHORN. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  And  she  came  back  with  you 
to-night  ? 

FANNY.      Yes. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     And  whcre's  she  gone  now  ? 

FANNY.  She's  gone  home  of  course.  Where  else 
should  she  go  ? 

[There  is  a  short  pause. 

CHRISTOPHER  [quictli/].  You're  telling  lies,  my 
girl. 

FANNY.     What,  father  ? 


16  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

CHRISTOPHER.  Thafs  not  the  truth  you've  just 
been  saying. 

FANNY.     What's  not  the  truth  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  You  didn't  spend  the  week-end  in 
Blackpool  with  Mary  Hollins. 

FANNY.     Who  savs  I  didn't  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     I  say  so. 

FANNY.     Why  do  you  think  I  didn't,  father  .^ 

CHRISTOPHER.     Well,  did  you  ? 

FANNY.     Yes,  I  did. 

[CHRISTOPHER  tiivns  lidpUssly  to  his  wife. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  All  right,  Chris,  wait  a  minute. 
Look  here,  Fanny,  it's  no  use  trying  to  make  us 
believe  you've  been  away  with  Mary. 

FANNY.  What  ?  I  can  bring  you  any  number  of 
folk  out  of  Hindle  who  saw  us  in  Blackpool  last  week. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Last  week,  happen.  Not  this 
week-end  ? 

FANNY.      Yes. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Bring  them,  then. 

FANNY.  How  can  I  bring  them  to-night  ?  They've 
most  of  them  not  come  back  yet. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Tell  US  who  to  ask,  then. 

FANNY  [thinking] .  Ask  Polly  Birtwistle.  Or 
Ethel  Slater. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Yes.  After  you've  got  at  them 
and  given  them  a  hint  what  to  say. 

FANNY.  Of  course  if  you'll  believe  that  it's  no  use 
asking  Mary.  You'd  only  say  she  was  telling  lies  as 
well. 

\_There  is  a  pause. 


sc.  1]  HINDLE   WAKES  17 


FANNY,     Will  you  go  round  and  see  Mary  ? 

CHEISTOPHER.       No. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Fanny,  it's  no  use  seeing  Mary. 
You  may  as  well  own  up  and  tell  us  where  you've 
been. 

FANNY.  Fve  been  to  Blackpool  with  Mary 
HoUins. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  You've  uot.  You  weren't  there 
this  week-end. 

FANNY.  Why,  I  sent  you  a  picture  postcard  on 
Sunday. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.    Yes,  we  got  that.    Who  posted  it  ? 

FANNY.  I  posted  it  myself  at  the  pillar-box  on  the 
Central  Pier. 

[There  is  a -pause.     They  do  not  believe 
her. 

FANNY  [  flaring  up] .  I  tell  you  Fve  been  all  week- 
end at  Blackpool  with  Mary  Hollins. 

CHRISTOPHER  [quietly'].     No,  you've  not. 

FANNY  [pertly] .  Well,  that's  settled  then.  There's 
no  need  to  talk  about  it  any  more. 

\_A  pause,     fanny  nervously  ticists  her 
liandkerchief. 

fanny.     Look  here.     Who's  been  saying  I  didn't  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     We  know  you  didn't. 

FANNY.     But  you  can't  know. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  As  certain  as  there's  a  God  in 
Heaven  we  know  it. 

FANNY.     Well,  that's  not  so  certain  after  all. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Fannv !  Take  heed  what  vou're 
saying. 

H.W.  B 


18  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

FANNY.  Why  can't  you  speak  out  ?  What  do  you 
know  ?     Tell  me  that. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  It's  uot  for  US  to  tell  you  any- 
thing.    It's  for  you  to  tell  us  where  you've  been. 

FANNY  [miitinousli/].     I've  told  you. 

\_Tlici)    do    not    speak,     fanny    rises 
quick!  ij. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Where  are  you  going  ? 

FANNY.  Are  you  trying  to  hinder  nie  from  going 
out  when  I  please,  now?  I'm  going  to  see  Mary 
Hollins. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.      What  for  ? 

FANNY.  To  fetch  her  here.  You  shall  see  her 
whether  you  like  it  or  not. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Fauiiy,  I've  already  seen  Mary 
Hollins. 

[fanny   turns  and   stares   at    him   in 
surprise. 

fanny.     When  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     This  moming. 

fanny.     She  was  at  Blackpool  this  morning. 

CHRISTOPHER.       So  was  I. 

FANNY  [amazed].     What  were  you  doing  there  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  I  went  there  with  Jim  Hollins. 
We  went  on  purpose  to  see  Mary. 

FANNY.     So  it's  Mary  as  has  given  me  away,  is  it  ? 

CHRISTOPHER  [noddiiuj,  slowly'] .  Yes.  You  might 
say  so. 

FANNY  [anrfrihi] .     Til  talk  to  her. 

CHRISTOPHER.  It  wasn't  her  fault.  She  couldn't 
help  it. 


sc.  1]  HINDLE   WAKES  19 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Now  will  you  tell  us  where 
you've  been  ? 

FANNY.  No,  I  won't.  I'll  see  Mary  first.  What 
did  she  say  to  you  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  When  I  told  thee  I  went  with  Jim 
Hollins  to  Blackpool,  I  didn't  tell  thee  quite  every- 
thing, lass.  [Gently.]  Mary  Hollins  was  drowned 
yesterday  afternoon. 

FANNY.  What !  [Slic  stares  at  Christopher  in 
horror.] 

CHRISTOPHER.  It  was  oue  of  them  sailing  boats. 
Run  down  by  an  excursion  steamer.  There  was 
over  twenty  people  on  board.  Seven  of  them  was 
drowned. 

FANNY.     Oh  !     My  poor  Mary  ! 

[fanny  sinks  down  into  her  chair  and 
stares  duUij  at  Christopher. 

MRS.  hawthorn.     You  didn't  know  that  ? 

fanny  [shaking  her  head]  .  No,  no.  [She  buries 
her  head  in  Iter  arms  on  the  table  and  begins  to  sob.] 

MRS.  hawthorn.  Now  then,  Fanny.  [She  is 
about  to  resume  her  inquisition.] 

CHRISTOPHER.  Hold  on,  mother.  Wait  a  bit. 
Give  her  a  chance. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN  [waving  him  aside] .  Now  then, 
Fanny.  You  see  you've  been  telling  lies  all  the 
time. 

[fanny  sobs. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Listen  to  me.  You  weren't  at 
Blackpool  this  week-end. 

fanny  [to  herself].     Poor,  poor  Mary  ! 

b2 


20  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

MRS.    HAWTHORN    [imtientlij].      You    weren't    at 
Blackpool  this  week-end. 

[fanny  sohs. 
MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Were  you  ? 
FANNY  [sohhing] .     N — no.      [She  shakes  Iter  head 
without  raising  it.] 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Where  were  you  ? 
FANNY.     Shan't  tell  you. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  You  Went  a  way  for  the  week- 
end .''  [No  ansiver.]  Did  you  go  alone  ?  [No 
ansiver.]  You  didn't  go  alone,  of  course.  [No 
answer.]  Who  did  you  go  with  ? 
FANNY.  Leave  me  alone,  mother. 
MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Who  did  you  go  with  ?  Did 
you  go  with  a  fellow  ? 

[FANNY  stojis  sobbing.  She  raises  her 
head  the  tiniest  hit  so  that  site  can 
see  her  mother  without  seeming  to 
do  so.  Her  eyes  are  just  visible 
above  her  arm.  MRS.  hawthorn 
marks  the  movement,  nevertlieless. 
MRS.  hawthorn  [nodding] .  Yes.  You  went  with 
a  chap  ? 

fanny  [quickly  dro2)j)ing  Iter  liead  again] .     No,  I 
didn't. 

MRS.    hawthorn    [roughly] .     You   little  liar,  you 
did  !     You  know  you  did  !     Who  was  he  ? 

[MRS.  hawthorn  seizes  fanny   by  the 
shoulder     and     shakes     her     in 
exasperation,     fanny  sobs. 
MRS.  hawthorn.     Will  you  tell  us  who  he  was  .'' 


sc.  1]  HINDLE   WAKES  21 

FANNY  [sharphj].     No,  I  won't. 

{There  is  a  slight  ijause. 

CHEISTOPHEE.  This  is  what  happens  to  many  a 
lass,  but  I  never  thought  to  have  it  happen  to  a  lass 
of  mine  ! 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Why  didn't  you  get  wed  if  you 
were  so  curious  ?  There's  plenty  would  have  had 
you. 

FANNY.  Chance  is  a  fine  thing.  Happen  I 
wouldn't  have  had  them  ! 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Happen  you'll  be  sorry  for  it 
before  long.  There's  not  so  many  will  have  you 
now,  if  this  gets  about. 

CHRISTOPHER.     Hc  ought  to  wed  her. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Of  course  he  ought  to  wed  her, 
and  shall  too,  or  I'll  know  the  reason  why !  Come 
now,  who's  the  chap  ? 

FANNY.     Shan't  tell  you. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Look  here. 

[She  i)laces  her  hand  on  fanny's  arm. 
FANNY  turns  round  fiercely  and 
flings  it  off. 

FANNY.  Leave  me  alone,  can't  you  ?  You  ought 
to  be  thankful  he  did  take  me  away.  It  saved  my 
life,  anyhow. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     How  do  you  make  that  out  ? 

FANNY.  I'd  have  been  drowned  with  Mary  if  I 
hadn't  gone  to  Llandudno. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Llandudno  ?    Did  you  say ? 

[She  stops  short.] 

CHRISTOPHER.     Why  mother,  that's 


22  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

MRS.  HAWTHORN  [cutthig  Mm  short].  Be  quiet, 
can't  you  ? 

[Site  reflects  for  a  moment,   and   then 

sits  dmvn  at  the  other  side  of  tlie 

table,  opposite  fanny. 

MRS.  hawthorn  [icith  meaning].     When  you  were 

in  Llandudno  did  you  happen   to  run  across  Alan 

Jeffcote  ? 

[fanny  looks  up  and  they  stare  hard  at 
each  other. 
FANNY  [at  length].     How  did  you  know? 
MRS.    HAWTHORN      [smiUng     grimly].      I     didn't. 
You've  just  told  me. 

FANNY  [gives  a  low  moan].  Oh  !  [Site  buries  Iter 
head  and  sobs.] 

MRS.  HAWTHORN    [tO    CHRISTOPHiER].       Well.       What 

do  you  think  of  her  now  ? 

CHRISTOPHER  [dazed].     Nat  Jeffcote's  lad  ! 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Ay !  Nat  Jeffcote's  lad.  But 
what  does  that  matter  ?  If  it  hadn't  been  him  it 
would  have  been  some  other  lad. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Nat  and  me  were  lads  together. 
We  were  pals. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Well,  uow  thy  girl  and  Nat's 
lad  are  pals.  Pull  thyself  together,  man.  What  art 
going  to  do  about  it  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     I  don't  kuow,  rightly. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Aren't  you  going  to  give  her  a 
talking-to .'' 

CHRISTOPHER.     What's  the  good  ? 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     What's  the  good  ?     Well,  I  like 


sc.  1]  HINDLE   WAKES  23 

that !     My  father  would   have    got   a  stick  to  me. 
[SJie  tarns  to  fanny.]     Did  he  promise  to  wed  you  ? 
FANNY  [in  a  low  voice].     No. 

MRS.    HAWTHORN.       Why  liot  ? 

FANNY.     Never  asked  him. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  You  little  fool  !  Have  you  no 
common  sense  at  all  ?  What  did  you  do  it  for  if  you 
didn't  make  him  promise  to  wed  you  ? 

[fanny  does  not  reply. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Do  you  hear  me  ?  What  made 
you  do  it  ? 

[fanny  sohs] 

CHRISTOPHER.     Let  her  be,  mother. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  She's  tuHicd  stupid,  [To  fanny.] 
When  did  you  go  ?  [No  answer.]  Did  you  go  in 
his  motor-car?  [Xo  ansn-er.]  Where  did  you 
stay  ? 

[There   is   no   answer,  so  she   shakes 
fanny.] 

Will  you  take  heed  of  what  I'm  saying  "^  Haven't 
you  got  a  tongue  in  your  head.''  Tell  us  exactly 
what  took  place. 

FANNY.     I  won't  tell  you  anything  more. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     We'll  see  about  that. 

CHRISTOPHER  [risincj].  That's  enough,  mother. 
We'll  leave  her  alone  to-night.  [He  touches  fanny 
on  the  shoulder.]  Now  then,  lass,  no  one's  going  to 
harm  thee.  Stop  thy  crying.  Thou'd  better  get 
upstairs  to  bed.     Happen  thou's  fagged  out. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  You  are  soft.  You're  never 
going  to  let  her  oft'  so  easy  ? 


24  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

CHRISTOPHER.  There's  plenty  of  time  to  tackle 
her  in  the  morning.     Come,  lass. 

[fanny  rises  and  stands  by  the  table, 
tviping  her  eyes.] 

Get  to  bed  and  have  some  sleep,  if  thou  can. 

[Without  a  word  fanny  sloicly  goes  to 
the  door  and  out  of  the  room.  She 
does  not  look  at  either  of  them.] 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Now  then.  What's  to  be 
done  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.    Ay  !     That's  it. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  You'll  have  to  waken  up  a  bit 
if  we're  to  make  the  most  of  this.  I  can  tell  you 
what's  the  first  job.  You'll  have  to  go  and  see 
Nathaniel  Jeffcote. 

CHRISTOPHER.     I'll  See  him  at  the  mill  to-morrow. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  To-morrow  !  You'll  go  and  see 
him  to-night.  Go  up  to  the  house  at  Bank  Top. 
If  Alan's  come  home  with  Fanny  he'll  be  there  as 
well,  and  you  can  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone. 

CHRISTOPHER.     It's  a  nasty  job. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  It's  got  to  be  done,  and  the 
sooner  the  better.  How  would  it  be  if  I  come  with 
you.? 

CHRISTOPHER  [hastily].     Nay.     I'll  go  alone. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  I'm  afraid  you'll  be  too  soft. 
It's  a  fine  chance,  and  don't  you  forget  it. 

CHRISTOPHER.     A  fine  chance  ? 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  To  get  her  wed,  thou  great 
stupid.  We're  not  going  to  be  content  with  less. 
We'll   show  them  up  if  they  turn  nasty. 


sc.  1]  HINDLE   WAKES  25 

CHEISTOPHBE.  He  ouglit  to  wed  her.  I  don't 
know  what  Nat  '11  say. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Look  here,  if  you're  not  going 
to  stand  out  for  your  rights  I'll  come  myself.  I'm 
not  afraid  of  Nat  Jeff'cote,  not  if  he  owned  twenty 
mills  like  Daisy  Bank. 

CHRISTOPHER.  I'm  not  afraid  of  him,  neither, 
though  he's  a  bad  man  to  tackle.  [He  rises.] 
Where's  my  hat .'' 

[MRS.  HAWTHORN  gives  him  his  hat  and 
stick,  and  he  goes  to  the  door.] 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  I  Say.  I  wonder  if  she's  done 
this  on  purpose,  after  all.  Plenty  of  girls  have  made 
good  matches  that  way. 

CHRISTOPHER.  She  said  they  never  mentioned 
marriage.     You  heard  her. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Well,  he  mightn't  have  gone 
with  her  if  she  had.  Happen  she's  cleverer  than  we 
think  ! 

CHRISTOPHER.     She  always  was  a  deep  one. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  That's  how  Bamber's  lass  got 
hold  of  young  Greenwood. 

CHRISTOPHER.     But  there  was  a He  couldn't 

help  it,  so  well. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Yes.  [She  reflects.]  Ah,  well. 
You  never  know  what  may  happen. 

[CHRISTOPHER  gocs  ovt  foUowed  hy 
MRS.  HAWTHORN  CIS  the  curtaiii 
falls.] 


26  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

SCENE  2 

Tlw  hreakfast-room  at  Nathaniel  Jeffcote's  house, 
Bank  Top,  Hindle  Vale,  is  almost  vast,  for  the 
house  is  one  of  those  great  oldfashioned  places 
standing  in  ample  grounds  that  are  to  be  found 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  smaller  Lancashire  manu- 
facturing toicns.  They  are  inhabited  by  wealthy 
manufacturers  wlto  have  resisted  the  temptation 
to  lire  at  St.  Anne' s-on-the-Sea,  or  Blackpool. 
In  the  wall  facing  the  spectator  is  the  door 
from  the  hall,  which  when  the  door  is  open  can 
be  seen  distinctly,  a  big  square  place.  The  fire- 
place is  in  the  right-hand  wall,  and  abow  window 
in  the  left-hand  one.  TJic  furniture  is  solid  and 
costly,  but  the  room  is  comfortable  and  looks  as 
if  it  is  intended  to  be  lived  in.  A  table  stands  in 
the  middle,  a  sideboard  near  the  door,  arm-cliairs 
near  the  hearth,  whilst  other  chairs  and  furniture 
{including  a  bookcase  filled  with  standard  works) 
complete  the  rather  ponderous  interior.  The 
Jeff'cotes  use  the  breakfast-room  for  all  meals 
except  ceremonious  ones,  wlien  the  dining-room 
is  requisitioned  and  an  elaborate  dinner  is  sub- 
stituted for  the  high  tea  which  Nathaniel  persists 
ill  regarding  as  an  essential  of  comfort  and 
homeliness.  It  is  about  10.30  on  the  same 
Bank  Holiday  evening.  The  room  is  well  lighted 
by  gas,  not  electricity,  but  of  course  there  is  no  fire. 

NATHANIEL  JEFFCOTE  and  his  wifc  are  sitting  alone 
in  the  room.     He  is  a  tall,  thin,  gaunt,  withered, 


sc.  2]  HINDLE   WAKES  27 

domi7ieerinri  man  of  sixty.  When  excited  or 
angrij  he  drops  into  dialect,  hut  otherwise  his 
speech,  though  fiat,  is  fairly  accurate,  mrs. 
JEFFCOTE  has  even  more  fully  adapted  herself  to 
the  rcsponsihilities  and  duties  imposed  by  the 
possession  of  iccalih.  She  is  a  plump,  mild 
and  good-natured  icoman.  She  sits  iinder  the 
chandelier  embroidering,  wliilst  her  husband  sits 
in  an  arm-chair  by  the  empty  hearth  working 
calculations  in  a  small  shiny  black  notebook, 
iclticli  he  carries  about  with  him  everyu-here, 
in  a  side  pocket. 
MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I  askc'd  Mis.  Plows  to  let  me  have 
a  look  through  Hindle  Lodge  to-day. 

JEFFCOTE  [looking  up'].     Eh  ?     What's  that  ? 
MRS.    JEFFCOTE.      Mi's.    Plcws    is    leaving    Hindle 
Ijodge  at  Christmas. 

JEFFCOTE.     What  of  it  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     I  was  thinking  it  would  do  very 
well  for  Alan  when  he  gets  married. 

JEFFCOTE.     Is  Alan  talking  about  getting  married  ? 
MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Beatrice  was  mentioning  it  last  week. 
JEFFCOTE.     How  long   have  they  been    engaged  ? 
A  year  .^ 

MRS.   JEFFCOTE.     Eleven  months.     I  remember  it 
was  on  September  the  5th  that  it  happened. 

JEFFCOTE.     How  on  earth  can  you  remember  that  ? 
MRS.    JEFFCOTE.     Because    September    the    5th    is 
your  birthday. 

JEFFCOTE.  Is  it?  [He  grunts.]  Well,  eleven  months 
isn't  so  long  after  all.     Let  'em  wait  a  bit  longer. 


as  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I  thought  we  might  be  speaking 
for  the  Lodge. 

JEFFCOTE.  What  do  they  want  with  a  house  like 
the  Lodge  ?  Isn't  there  plenty  of  room  here  .'* 
We've  got  four  living-rooms  and  fourteen  bedrooms 
in  this  house,  and  there's  never  more  than  three  of 
them  going  at  the  same  time. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Really,  Nat !  They'll  want  a 
house  of  their  own,  no  matter  how  many  bedrooms 
we've  got  empty,  and  it's  only  natural. 

JEFFCOTE.  There's  no  hurry  as  far  as  I  can  see. 
Alan  won't  be  twenty-five  till  next  March,  will  he  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  You  were  only  twenty-two  when 
you  married  me. 

JEFFCOTE.  I  didn't  marry  a  girl  who'd  been 
brought  up  like  Beatrice  Farrar.  I  married  a  girl 
who  could  help  me  to  make  money.  Beatrice  won't 
do  that.     She'll  help  to  spend  it,  likely. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Well,  he'll  have  it  to  spend. 
What's  money  for  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  Money's  power.  That's  why  I  like  money. 
Not  for  what  it  can  buy. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  All  the  samc,  you've  always  done 
yourself  pretty  well,  Nat. 

JEFFCOTE.  Because  it  pays  in  the  long  rmi.  And 
it's  an  outward  sign.  Why  did  I  buy  a  motor-car  ? 
Not  because  I  wanted  to  go  motoring.  I  hate  it.  I 
bought  it  so  that  people  could  see  Alan  driving  about 
in  it,  and  say,  "  There's  Jeffcote's  lad  in  his  new  car. 
It  cost  five  hundred  quid."  Tim  Farrar  was  so  keen 
on   getting   his   knighthood    for   the   same   reason. 


sc.  2]  HINDLE   WAKES  29 


Every  one  knows  that  him  and  me  started  life  in  a 

weaving  shed.    That's  why  we  like  to  have  something 

to  show  'em  how  well  we've  done.     That's  why  we 

put  some  of  our  brass  into  houses   and   motors  and 

knighthoods  and  fancy  articles  of  the  kind.     I've  put  a 

deal  of  brass  into  our  Alan,  and  Tim  Farrar's  pvit  a 

deal  into  his  Beatrice,  with  just  the  same  object  in  view. 

[There   is   a  short  iMuse.     jeffcote 

goes  on    with  his  reckoning  and 

MRS.    JEFFCOTE   ivitli  her   sewing. 

Then  she  speaks  quietly.'] 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I  was  woudcring  what  you  intend 
to  do  for  Alan  when  he  gets  married. 

JEFFCOTE.     Do  for  him  ?     What  do  you  mean  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  He  doesn't  get  a  regular  salary, 
does  he  ? 

JEFFCOTE  [suspiciousli/].  Has  Alan  been  putting 
you  up  to  talk  to  me  about  this  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Well,  Nat,  if  he  has ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Why  can't  he  talk  to  me  himself.'' 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE  [j^laciclli/  Continuing].  You're  not 
such  a  good  one  to  tackle.  I  daresay  he  thought  I 
should  do  it  better  than  he  would. 

JEFFCOTE.     I  don't  keep  him  short,  do  I  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  No.  But  Sir  Timothy  will  expect 
him  to  show  something  more  definite  before  the 
wedding. 

JEFFCOTE.  Tim  Farrar  don't  need  to  be  afraid.  I 
hope  he'll  leave  his  lass  as  much  as  I  shall  leave  Alan. 
That  lad '11  be  the  richest  man  in  Hindle  some  day. 

MRS.    JEFFCOTE.    I   daresay.     Some   day !     That's 


ao  HINDLE  WAKES  [act  i 


not  much  good  to  set  up  house  on.  Why  don't  you 
take  him  into  partnership  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Partnership  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  You  always  say  he  works  hard 
enough. 

JEFFCOTE  [(irudfi'inghi].     Well  enough. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I  supposB  it  comes  to  this.  You 
don't  want  to  take  him  into  partnership  because  it 
would  mean  parting  with  some  of  that  power  youVe 
so  fond  of. 

JEFFCOTE.  He  mightn't  work  so  well  if  he  was  his 
own  master. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  But  if  you  gave  him  a  junior 
partnership  he  wouldn't  be  his  own  master.  You'd 
see  to  that. 

JEFFCOTE  [jocularly  clrojyjying  into  dialect].  Eh, 
lass !  thou'd  better  come  and  manage  mill  thyself. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I  shouldn't  make  such  a  bad  job 
of  it,  neither  !  Remember  that  if  you  take  him  in 
you'll  have  less  work  to  do  3^om'self.  He'll  share  the 
responsibility. 

JEFFCOTE.  Hold  on  a  bit.  The  owd  cock's  not 
done  with  yet. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  If  Beatrice  starts  talking  about 
the  date 

JEFFCOTE.  Oh,  if  you'll  stop  your  worritting  I 
daresay  I'll  take  the  lad  into  partnership  on  his 
wedding-day. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Can  I  tell  Sir  Timothy  that  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  If  you  like.  I  told  him  myself  six 
months  ago. 


sc.  2]  HINDLE   WAKES  31 


MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     You  arc   a  caution,  Nat,  indeed 
you  are !     Why  couldn't  you  tell   nie   so   at   once, 
instead  of  making  a  fool  of  me  like  this  ? 
JEFFCOTE.     I  like  to  hear  thee  talking,  lass. 

[Having  hroHght  off  this  characteristic 
stroke  of  humour,  JEFFCOTE  resumes 
his   work.     The   door  opens   and 
ADA  comes  in. 
ADA.     If  you  please,  sir,  there's  someone  to  see  you. 
JEFFCOTE  [absorhed^.     Eh  ? 
MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Who  is  it,  Ada  ? 
ADA.     His  name's  Hawthorn,  ma'am. 
MRS.  JEFFCOTE.    It'll  be  Christopher  Hawthorn,  Nat. 
JEFFCOTE.     What  does  he  want  coming  so  late  as 
this  ?     Fetch  him  in  here. 

[ADA  goes  out. 
Can't  be  owt  wrong  at  the  mill,  seeing  it's  Bank 
Holiday. 

[ADA  shows  in  Christopher,  u-ho  stands 
near  the  door. 
MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Good  evening,  Mr.  Hawthorn. 
CHRISTOPHER.     Good  evening,  Mrs.  JefFcote. 
JEFFCOTE  [rising].     Well,  Chris  ! 
CHRISTOPHER.     Well,  Nat ! 

[These  two  old  comrades  address  each 
Other  hy  their  first  names  although 
viaster  and  man. 
JEFFCOTE.     Sit  down.     The  rain's  held  off. 
CHRISTOPHER.    Ay  !     [He  is  obviously  ill  at  ease.] 
MRS.    JEFFCOTE.      Where    have    you    been    these 
Wakes. 


32  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

CHRISTOPHER.     Nowhere. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     What  ?     Stopped  at  home  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  Ay  !  Sowiehow  we  don't  seem  quite 
as  keen  on  Blackpool  as  we  used  to  be.  And  the 
missus  was  badly  last  week  with  her  leg,  and  what 
with  one  thing;  and  another  we  let  it  drift  this  time 
round.     You've  not  been  away,  either  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  No,  wc  went  to  Norway  in  June, 
you  know. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Ay  !  SO  you  did.  That  must  be  a 
fine  place — from  the  pictures. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Alan  is  away,  though.  He  is  motor- 
ing in  North  Wales.     We  expect  him  back  to-night. 

JEFFCOTE.  Business  is  too  bad  to  go  away,  Chris. 
I  was  down  in  Manchester  Tuesday  and  Friday.  It 
isn't  Wakes  in  Manchester,  thou  knows  ! 

CHRISTOPHER.     Anything  doing  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  I  landed  ten  sets  of  those  brown 
jacconets  on  Friday.  Five  for  October  and  five  for 
November. 

CHRISTOPHER.     For  the  forty-four  inch  looms  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  Ay  !  And  hark  you,  Chris  !  they're 
complaining  about  the  tint.  Not  bright  enough,  they 
say  in  India.  They've  sent  a  pattern  over  this  mail. 
You'd  better  have  a  look  at  it  to-morrow.  We've  got 
to  give  them  what  they  want,  I  reckon. 

CHRISTOPHER.  I  don't  think  they  do  know  what 
they  want  in  India,  Nat. 

JEFFCOTE.     You're  about  right  there,  Chris. 

[A  IJClUSe.      CHRISTOPHER  loolis   luicom- 

fortablij  at  MRS.  jeffcote. 


sc.  2]  HINDLE   WAKES  33 

JEFFCOTB  [at  length].  When  care  you  going  to  bed, 
mother  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE  [taking  the  liint].     Any  time  now. 
JEFFCOTE.      That's    right.     Just    reach    me    the 
whisky  before  you  go. 

[mes.  JEFFCOTE  gets  a  bottle  of  ivhisky, 
a   syphon   and   glasses  from    the 
sideboard  cupboard. 
MRS.    JEFFCOTE.      Are   you    going   to   sit   up  for 
Alan  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Why  ?     Hasn't  he  got  his  latchkey  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.       I  expect  SO. 

JEFFCOTE.  Then  I  reckon  he'll  be  able  to  find  the 
keyhole,  and  if  he  can't  he  won't  thank  me  for  sitting 
up  to  welcome  him. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE  [smiling'].  You  do  talk  some  non- 
sense, Nat.     Good-night,  Mr.  Hawthorn. 

CHRISTOPHER  [rising].     Good-night,  Mrs.  JefTcote. 
[MRS.  JEFFCOTE  goes  out  of  the  room. 

JEFFCOTE.     Have  a  drink,  Chris  .'' 

CHRISTOPHER.     No  thanks,  Nat. 

JEFFCOTE  [incredidously].     Get  away  ! 

CHRISTOPHER.     Well — just  a  small  one,  then. 

[JEFFCOTE  jwurs  out  two  dvinks. 

JEFFCOTE.     Light  your  pipe,  Chris. 

CHRISTOPHER.     Ay !     Thanks.     [He  does  so.] 

JEFFCOTE.  It's  a  long  while  since  we  had  a  quiet 
chat  together.  We  don't  see  so  much  of  each  other 
as  we  did  thirty  years  ago  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  No.  You've  other  fish  to  fry,  I 
reckon. 

H.W.  C 


34  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

JEFFCOTE.  I'm  always  right  glad  to  see  you.  How 
long  have  you  been  taping  for  me,  Chris  ? 

CHKISTOPHER.  I  canie  to  you  in  '95.  I  remember 
because  Joe  Walmesley's  shed  was  burnt  down  the 
same  year. 

JEFFCOTE.  Ay !  That  was  during  the  General 
Election,  when  Tories  knocked  out  Mark  Smethurst 
in  Hindle.  Joe  was  speaking  at  one  of  Mark''s 
meetings  when  they  come  and  told  him  his  mill  was 
afire.  That  was  the  only  time  I  ever  saw  Joe 
Walmesley  cry. 

CHRISTOPHER.  He  was  fond  of  them  looms,  was 
Joe! 

JEFFCOTE.  You  missed  your  way,  Chris,  you 
did  indeed,  when  you  wouldn't  come  in  with  me 
and  put  your  savings  into  Trafalgar  Mill. 

CHRISTOPHER.  That's  what  the  missus  is  never 
tired  of  telling  me. 

JEFFCOTE.  You  might  have  been  my  partner  these 
fifteen  years  instead  of  only  my  slasher. 

CHRISTOPHER.  You'd  never  have  got  on  with  a 
partner,  Nat.     You're  too  fond  of  your  own  way. 

JEFFCOTE.  You're  right  there.  I've  been  used  to 
it  for  a  good  while  now. 

CHRISTOPHER.  You  dou't  remember  Daisy  Bank 
being  built,  Nat  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  No.  I  was  living  over  Blackburn  way 
then. 

CHRISTOPHER.  I  was  Only  a  lad  at  the  time.  I 
used  to  come  along  the  river  bank  on  Sundays  with 
the   other  lads.     There   were   no  weaving  sheds  in 


sc.  2]  HINDLE   WAKES  35 

Hindle  Vale  in  those  days  ;  nothing  but  fields  all  the 
way  to  Harwood  Bridge.  Daisy  Bank  was  the  first 
shed  put  up  outside  Hindle  proper.  They  called  it 
Daisy  Bank  because  of  the  daisies  in  the  meadows. 
All  the  side  of  the  brow  falling  away  towards  the 
river  was  thick  with  them.  Thick  dotted  it  was,  like 
the  stars  in  the  sky  of  a  clear  night. 

JEFFCOTE.  Look  here,  old  lad,  thou  didn't  come 
up  here  at  this  time  of  night  just  to  talk  about 
daisies. 

CHEISTOPHER.       Eh  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  You've  come  up  here  with  a  purpose, 
haven't  you  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     That's  so,  Nat. 

.JEFFCOTE.  I  could  sec  that.  That's  why  I  sent 
the  missus  to  bed.  I  know  you  of  old.  What  is  it 
that's  troubling  you  ?     Get  it  off'  your  chest  ! 

CHRISTOPHER.     It's  about  my  lass. 

JEFFCOTE.       Hullo  ! 

CHRISTOPHER.     I'm  worried  about  her. 
JEFFCOTE.     What's  she  been  doing  ? 
CHRISTOPHER.     Getting  into  trouble. 
JEFFCOTE.     What  sort  of  trouble  ? 
CHRISTOPHER  \trouhlcd\    Well, thou  knows — there's 

only  one  sort  of  trouble 

JEFFCOTE.     Ay — ay  !    With  a  lad  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.       Ay ! 

[There  is  a  slight  loause. 
CHRISTOPHER.     It's    Only  by    chance   we  found  it 
out.     The  missus  is  in  a  fine  way  about  it,  I  can  tell 
you! 

g2 


86  HLNDLE   WAKES  [act  i 


JEFFCOTE.     Then  it's  proper  serious,  like  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  They've  been  away  together,  these 
Wakes. 

JEFFCOTE  [whistling].  Humph  !  She's  a  cool 
customer.     What  art  going  to  do  in  the  matter  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  That's  what  I've  come  up  to  see 
thee  about.  I  wasn't  for  coming  to-night,  but 
missus,  she  was  set  on  it. 

JEFFCOTE.  Quite  right,  too.  I'll  help  thee  any 
road  I  can.  But  you  mustn't  take  it  too  much  to 
heart.  It's  not  the  first  time  a  job  like  this  has 
happened  in  Hindle,  and  it  won't  be  the  last  ! 

CHRISTOPHER.  That's  true.  But  it's  poor  comfort 
when  it's  your  own  la.ss  that's  got  into  trouble. 

JEFFCOTE.  There's  many  a  couple  living  happy 
to-day  as  first  come  together  in  that  fashion. 

CHRISTOPHER.     Wedded,  you  mean  .'' 

JEFFCOTE.  Ay  !  Wedded,  of  course.  What  else 
do  you  think  I  meant  ?    Docs  the  lad  live  in  Hindle  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  Ay  !  [IIc  (locs  not  know  how  to 
break  it  to  jeffcote.] 

JEFFCOTE.     Whose  shed  does  he  work  at.'' 

CHRISTOPHER.  Well,  since  you  put  it  that  way,  he 
works  at  yours. 

JEFFCOTE.     At  Daisy  Bank  .''     Do  I  know  him  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     Ay  !    You  know^  him  w^ell. 

JEFFCOTE.  Then  by  Gad !  I'll  have  it  out  with 
him  to-morrow.  If  he  doesn't  promise  to  wed  thy 
Fanny  I'll  give  him  the  sack 

CHRISTOPHER  [dctzed].    Give  him  the  sack  ! 

JEFFCOTE.     And   I'll   go    further.     If  he'll   be    a 


so.  2]  HINDLE   WAKES  37 


decent  lad  and  make  it  right  with  her  at  once,  I'll 
see  that  he's  well  looked  after  at  the  mill.  We're  old 
pals,  Chris,  and  I  can't  do  no  fairer  than  that,  can  I  ? 

CHEISTOPIIER.      No. 

JEFFCOTE.     Now,  then,  who's  the  chap  ? 

CHRISTOPHEK.  Thou'll  be  a  bit  surprised-like,  I 
reckon. 

JEFFCOTE.     Spit  it  out  ! 

CHEiSTOPHEU.     It's  thy  lad,  Alan. 

JEFFCOTE  [sJiarpIi/].  What?  [a  slight  j;a«<5<']. 
Say  that  again. 

CHRISTOPHER.     Thy  lad,  Alan. 

JEFFCOTE.     My  lad  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.       Ay  ! 

[After  a  short  pause,  jeffcote  springs 
itjy  in  a  blazing  rage. 

JEFFCOTE.  Danni  you,  Chris  Hawthorn  !  why  the 
devil  couldn't  you  tell  me  so  before  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     I  were  trying  to  tell  thee,  Nat— — 

JEFFCOTE.  Tiying  to  tell  me  !  Hasn't  thou  got  a 
tongue  in  thy  head  that  thou  mun  sit  there  like  a 
bundle  of  grey-cloth  while  I'm  making  a  fool  of 
m)'self  this  road?  [He  paces  up  and  down  in  his 
agitation.]  Here  !  How  do  you  know  it's  Alan  ? 
Who  says  it's  Alan  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.    Fanny. 

JEFFCOTE.  Fanny,  eh  ?  How  do  you  know  she's 
not  lying  ? 

CHRISTOPHER  [stoutlij].  You  Can  settle  it  soon 
enough  by  asking  Alan.  I  thought  to  have  found 
him  here  to-night. 


38  HINDLE    WAKES  [act  i 

JEFFCOTE.     He's  not  come  home  yet  ? 

CHRISTOPHEK.       No. 

JEFFCOTE.     And  a  good  job  for  him,  too  ! 

CHRISTOPHER.  Wouldn't  he  fetch  Fanny  back, 
think  you? 

JEFFCOTE.  Would  he,  the  dickens !  He's  not 
altogether  without  sense.  Do  you  think  he'd  run 
her  in  the  car  through  Hindle  market-place  and  up 
Burnley  Road  and  set  her  down  at  your  house  for  all 
the  folk  to  see  .'' 

CHRISTOPHER.       No. 

JEFFCOTE  [auddenhj  flarimi  np  agahi\.  The  bally 
young  fool !  I'd  like  to  break  his  silly  neck  for  him  ! 
And  that  lass  of  thine  is  just  as  much  to  blame  as  he 
is  !     I've  marked  her — the  hot-blooded  little  wench! 

CHRISTOPHER.  I  can't  defend  her.  She's  always 
been  a  bit  of  a  mystery  to  her  mother  and  me. 
There's  that  in  her  veins  as  keeps  her  restless  and 
uneas3\  If  she  sees  you  want  her  to  do  one  thing 
she'll  go  right  away  and  do  t'other  out  of  pure 
cussedness.  She  won't  be  driven,  not  any  road.  I 
had  a  dog  just  like  her  once. 

JEFFCOTE.  Eh,  old  lad,  ifs  a  good  job  you  never 
had  any  boys  if  you  don't  know  how  to  manage  a 
girl ! 

CHRISTOPHER.  Happen  I  could  have  managed  lads 
better.     I  never  could  clout  a  girl  properly. 

JEFFCOTE.  I  can  manage  my  lad  without  clouting. 
Always  could. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Folk  are  different,  you  see.  Happen 
you  couldn't  have  managed  our  Fanny. 


sc.  2]  HINDLE   WAKES  39 

JEFFCOTE.  I'd  have  had  a  damn  good  try  !  Where 
is  she  now  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  At  the  house.  She  was  overdone, 
and  I  sent  her  to  bed  to  get  her  out  of  range  of 
the  missus's  tongue.  She  was  talking  rather  bitter, 
hke. 

JEFFCOTE.  She  had  a  sharp  way  with  her  when 
she  was  Sarah  Riley,  had  your  missus,  and  I  reckon 
it  won't  have  improved  with  the  passing  of  years  !  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  it  was  your  missus  who  got  the 
truth  out  of  Fanny. 

CHRISTOPHER.     So  it  was. 

JEFFCOTE.  And  what  did  she  get  out  of  her  ? 
Lefs  be  knowing  just  what  took  place. 

CHRISTOPHER.  I  Can  tell  you  nowt  save  that  they 
stayed  in  Llandudno.  You'll  have  to  go  to  your  lad 
for  the  rest  of  the  story. 

JEFFCOTE.  All  right,  ril  see  you  to-morrow  at 
the  mill.     There's  nowt  more  to  be  done  to-night. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Maybe  it's  a  queer  fancy,  but  I'd 
like  to  have  seen  him  to-night.  There's  no  chance 
of  him  coming  in  shortly,  think  you  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  He  may  come  in  the  next  five  minutes, 
or  he  may  not  come  home  at  all.  There's  no  telling 
what  may  happen  on  Bank  Holiday, 

CHRISTOPHER.  Then  it's  no  use  me  waiting  a 
while  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  Nay,  you  can't  wait  here.  I'm  going 
to  bed.  I'm  not  going  to  let  this  business  spoil  a 
night's  rest.  I'd  advise  you  to  look  on  it  in  the  same 
light. 


40  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

CHEISTOPHER.  All,  Nat,  but  it's  not  so  hard  on 
you  as  it  is  on  me ! 

JEFFCOTE.  Is  it  not  ?  HoNv  do  you  know  what 
plans  of  niino  will  conic  to  naught  through  this  job? 
[More  kindli/]  Conic,  old  lad,  thou  niun  clear  out. 
Thou  can  do  nowt  here. 

CHRISTOPHER.  Well,  I've  not  said  all  that  my 
missus  told  nie  to  say,  and  I  doubt  she'll  be  on  my 
track,  but  I  reckon  it's  a  bit  too  previous  afore  we've 
seen  the  lad. 

JEFFCOTE.  If  your  wife  wants  to  say  anything  to 
me,  she's  welcome.  You'd  better  fetch  her  up  here 
to-morrow  night,  and  bring  Fanny  along  as  well.  Ell 
be  ready  for  you  by  then. 

CHRISTOPHER.     To-moiTow  night .'' 

JEFFCOTE.  About  iiiiie  o'clock.  Do  you  understand  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  Ay !  [Tie  goes  to  the  door,  and 
JEFFCOTE  risesA     Mv  wife  said 

JEFFCOTE  [curthj].  I  cau  guess  all  that  thy  wife 
said.  You  can  tell  her  this  from  me.  Ell  see  you're 
treated  right.     Do  you  hear  .^ 

[JEFFCOTE  opens  the  door. 

CHRISTOPHER.     I  Can't  ask  for  more  than  that. 

JEFFCOTE.     I'll  see  you're  treated  right. 

[They  go  into  the  hall  out  of  sight. 
ADA  comes  into  the  room  irith  a 
tray  ichich  she  places  on  the  table. 
The  tray  holds  bread,  cheese,  blotter, 
a  bottle  of  beer  and  a  tumbler. 

JEFFCOTE  [out  of  sight  in  the  hall].  I'm  not  afraid 
of  thy  wife,  if  you  are. 


sc.  2]  HINDLE   WAKES  41 

[The  front  door  hangs,  jeffcote 
returns  into  the  room  and  sees 
the  tray,  ichich  he  examines 
irritahli/. 

JEFFCOTE.     "WHiafs  this  for  ? 

ADA.     Mr.  Alan's  tray,  sir.     We  always  leave  it 
when  he's  out  late. 

JEFFCOTE  [flaring  v}^].     Take  it  away  ! 

ADA.     Take  it  away,  sir  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  Yes.  Do  you  hear  ?  Take  the  dannied 
thing  away ! 

ADA.     What  about  Mr.  xVlan's  supper,  sir  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Let  him  do  witliout. 

ADA.     Yes,  sir. 

[ADA  takes  the  tray  out.  jeffcote 
watclu's  her,  and  then  goes  to  the 
toindoiv  to  see  if  it  is  fastened. 
MRS.  JEFFCOTE,  mostbj  undressed 
and  attired  in  a  dressing  lerap, 
appears  in  the  hall. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.       Nat  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     What  do  ijou  want  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Is  anything  the  matter  ? 

JEFFCOTE.      Why  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I  tliouglit  I  heard  you  swearing, 
that's  all. 

JEFFCOTE.     Happen  I  was. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  You've  not  quarrelled  with 
Christopher  Hawthorn  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  No,  we're  the  best  of  friends.  He  only 
wanted  my  opinion  about  summat. 


42  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  What  had  you  got  to  swear  about, 
then  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     I  was  giving  him  my  opinion. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.       Well,  but 

JEFFCOTE.  That's  enough.  Get  along  to  bed  with 
you.  Maybe  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  to-morrow. 
Maybe  I  won't  ! 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Well,  I'm  glad  it's  no  worse.  I 
thought  you  were  coming  to  blows. 

[MRS.  JEFFCOTE  (focs  out  and  npstairs. 
JEFFCOTE  sees  the   two  glasses  of 
u-hiskij  and  soda  icIiicJi  neither  of 
the  men  has  remembered  to  touch. 
He  takes  liis  own  and  drinks  it. 
ADA  apiKars. 
ADA.     Please,  sir,  do  you  want  anything  else  ? 
JEFFCOTE.      No.      Get   to   bed.      [She   is  going.] 
Have  the  other  girls  gone  upstairs  yet  ? 
ADA.     Yes,  sir. 

JEFFCOTE.     And  you've  fastened  the  back  door  ? 
ADA.     Yes,  sir. 
JEFFCOTE.     Good-night. 
ADA.     Good-night,  sir. 

[ADA  goes  iqjstairs.  jeffcote  slowly 
drinks  the  second  glass  of  whisky 
and  soda.  He 'puts  hoth  the  empty 
glasses  on  the  sideboard  and  looks 
round  the  room.  He  turns  out  all 
the  gases  except  one,  which  he 
leaves  very  low.  He  goes  out  into 
the    hall,    leaving    the   breakfast- 


sc.  2]  HINDLE   WAKES  43 

room  door  open,  and  is  seen  to  go 
out  of  sight  to  the  front  door,  as  if 
to  assure  himself  that  it  is  on  the 
latch.  Then  he  turns  the  hall 
gas  very  low  indeed,  and  goes 
upstairs. 


THE    CURTAIN    FALLS 


44  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

SCENE  3 

The  curtain  rises  again  immediately.  The  scene  is 
the  same  room  about  tico  Jiours  later,  that  is 
to  say  at  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Everything  looks  just  the  same.  At  first  there  is 
silence.  TJien  is  heard  the  scratching  noise  of  a 
latchkey  being  inserted  into  the  front  door.  Tlie 
jirocess  takes  some  time.  At  last  the  door  is 
heard  to  oj^en,  and  someone  stumbles  in,  making 
rather  too  much  noise.  The  door  is  closed  very 
quietly.  A  match  is  struck  in  the  hall,  out  oj 
sight.  It  goes  out  at  once.  Then  a  figure  is 
dunly  seen  to  appear  in  the  doorway  of  the  break- 
fast-room, lean  against  the  jamh  and  look  round. 
It  is  ALAN  JEFFCOTE,  wlio  if  hc  could  be  seen 
distinctly  would  be  found  a  icell-made,  plump, 
easy-going  young  fellow,  with  a  weak  but  healthy 
and  attractive  face  and  fair  hair.  He  is  of  the 
type  that  runs  to  stoutness  after  thirty,  unless 
diet  and  exercise  are  carefully  attended  to.  At 
present  he  is  too  fond  of  luxury  and  good  living  to 
leave  any  doubt  that  this  pleasant  fellow  of  twenty- 
five  will  be  a  gross,  fieshly  man  at  forty.  He  is 
dressed  by  a  good  Manchester  tailor,  and  every- 
thing he  has  is  of  the  best.  He  does  not  stint 
his  father's  money.  He  has  been  to  the  Man- 
chester Grammar  School  ami  Manchester  Uni- 
versity, but  he  lias  not  lost  the  characteristic 
Hindle  burr  in  his  accent,  though  he  speaks 
correctly  as   a  rule.     He   docs    not   ever  speak 


sc.  3]  HINDLE   WAKES  45 

affectedly,  so  that  Ids  speech  harmonises  with 
that  of  the  other  characters.  This  is  important, 
for  though  he  has  had  afar  better  education  than 
any  of  the  other  characters  except  Beatrice,  lie 
is  essentially  one  of  them,  a  Hindle  man.  He 
has  no  feeling  that  he  is  provincial,  or  that  the 
provinces  are  not  the  j^^'incij^l  asset  of  England. 
London  he  looks  upon  as  a  place  ichere  rich 
Lancashire  men  go  for  a  spree,  if  they  have  not  time 
to  go  to  Monte  Carlo  or  Paris.  Manchester  he 
looks  upon  as  the  centre  or  headquarters  for 
Lancashire  manufacturers,  and  therefore  more 
important  than  London.  But  after  all  lie  thinks 
that  Manchester  is  merely  the  office  for  Hindle  and 
the  other  Lancashire  towns,  which  are  the  actual 
source  of  wealth.  Therefore  Hindle,  Blackburn, 
Bolton,  Oldham,  and  the  rest  are  far  more 
important  in  his  eyes  than  London  or  Man- 
chester, and  perhaps  he  is  right.  Anyhow,  the 
feeling  gives  him  sufficient  assurance  to  stroll 
into  the  most  fashionable  hotels  and  restaurants, 
conscious  that  lie  can  afford  to  j^ay  for  whatever 
he  fancies,  that  he  can  behave  liimself  that  he 
can  treat  the  waiters  with  the  confidence  of  an 
aristocrat  born — and  yet  be  patently  a  Lanca- 
shire man.  He  would  never  dream  of  trying  to 
conceal  the  fact,  nor  indeed  could  he  understand 
why  anybody  should  wish  to  try  and  conceal  such 
a  thing.  He  is  now  slightly  intoxicated,  not 
seriously  drunk,  only  what  he  would  himself 
describe  as  "a  bit   tight.''     He  strikes  another 


46  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 


match  and  lurches  towards  tlie  rjas,  only  to  find 
that  it  is  already  lighted.  He  blows  out  the 
match  and  tries  to  turn  uj)  the  gas.  As  he 
reaches  vj)  he  knocks  a  small  bronze  vase  off  the 
end  of  the  mantel-piece.  It  falls  into  the  fire- 
irons  Kith  an  ajypalling  crash. 

ALAN.     Curse  it ! 

[He  turns  up  the  gas  and  clumsily 
picks  up  and  replaces  the  vase. 
He  sees  on  the  mantel-piece  a 
couple  of  letters  addressed  to  him. 
He  [tears  them  open,  stares  at 
them,  and  crams  them  unread  into 
his  pocket.  Then  he  gazes  at  the 
table  as  if  in  search  of  some- 
thing.] 
ALAN.  Where's  that  tray?  Where  the  devil's 
that  tray  ? 

[He  sliakes  liis  head  and,  proceeds  to 
look  in  the  sideboard  cupboard  for 
food.  He  can  find  none,  so  he 
turns  to  the  whisky  and  soda, 
and  fills  one  of  the  empty  glasses. 
This  he  puts  on  the  mantel-piece, 
and  then  he  sits  in  the  arm-chair 
by  the  hearth,  sinks  back  and  holds 
his  head  in  his  hands.  He  seems 
to  be  going  to  sleep. 
In  the  hall  is  observed  a  flickering 
light,  coming  nearer  by   degrees 


sc.  3]  HINDLE   WAKES  47 

Old  NATHANIEL  JEFFCOTE  appears, 
a  lean  picturesque  figure  in 
pyjamas  and  dressing-gown,  carry- 
ing in  one  hand  a  lighted  bedroom 
candle  and  in  the  other  a  poker. 
He  comes  to  the  door  of  the  room, 
stands  at  the  threshold  and  con- 
templates his  son.  At  lengtli  alan 
seems  to  feel  that  he  is  not  alone, 
for  he  slowly  steals  a  glance 
round  to  the  door,  and  encounters 
his  father's  stern  gaze. 
ALAN.  Hello!  [He  smiles  amiably.]  Thought 
you  were  in  bed. 

JEFFCOTE.  So  it's  3'ou,  is  it  ?  WHiat  arc  you 
making  all  this  din  about  ? 

ALAN.  'S  not  my  fault.  You  don't  s'pose  I  did  it 
on  purpose,  do  you  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  I'll  not  have  you  coming  in  and  raising 
Cain  at  this  time  of  night.  It's  enough  to  waken  the 
dead  ! 

ALAN.     I  can't  help  it.     They  go  and  stick  that 
beastly  thing  up  there !     [He  points  to   the   vase.] 
Can't  blame  me  for  knocking  it  over.     'S  not  my 
fault.     [He  hiccoughs.]     I  can't  help  it. 
JEFFCOTE.     Are  you  drunk  ? 

ALAN  [rising  and  standing  witli  Ids  back  to  the  hearth 
in  a  dignified  way].  You've  never  seen  me  drunk 
yet !     [He  hiccoughs.] 

[JEFFCOTE  approaches  him  and  scruti- 
nises him  by  the  light  of  the  candle. 


48  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

JEFFCOTE.  I've  never  seen  thee  nearer  drunk,  any- 
how. Thou  didn't  drive  the  car  home  in  this  state, 
surely  ? 

ALAN.     No  fear ! 

JEFFCOTE.     Where  have  you  left  it  ? 

ALAN.     At  "  George  and  Dragon,"  in  Hindle. 

JEFFCOTE.  I  see.  You've  been  at  "  George  and 
Dragon  "  ?     Didn't  they  chuck  you  out  at  eleven  ? 

ALAN.  Ay  !  Then  we  went  round  to  the  Liberal 
Club. 

JEFFCOTE.     Who's  "  we  "  ? 

ALAN.     Me  and  George  Ranisbottom. 

JEFFCOTE.  Has  George  llamsbofctom  been  with 
you  this  week-end  ? 

ALAN.  No.  I  met  him  at  the  "  Midland "  at 
Manchester.     We  had  a  bit  of  dinner  together. 

JEFFCOTE.  Ah !  Where's  George  Ranisbottom 
been  during  the  week-end  ? 

ALAN.     After  his  own  devices. 

JEFFCOTE.     Humph  !     Like  thj'self,  no  doubt  ? 

ALAN.     Happen ! 

JEFFCOTE.     What's  thou  been  up  to  these  Wakes  ? 

ALAN.     Nothing.     Why  ? 

JEFFCOTE  [holding  the  candle  up  to  alan's  face]. 
Hast  been  with  a  girl  ? 

ALAN  [fi'mching  slightlij].     No. 

JEFFCOTE.     Thou  hardened  young  liar  ! 

ALAN  [staggered].     Why.? 

JEFFCOTE  [looking  liai'd  at  liim].  Chris  Hawthorn's 
been  here  to-night. 

ALAN  [vaguely].     Chris  Hawthorn  ? 


sc.  3]  HINDLE   WAKES  49 

JEFFCOTE.      Ay ! 

[alan  cannot  hear  his  father's  gaze. 
He  is  not  able  to  keep  uj)  the 
jjretence  of  coolness  any  longer. 
He  turns  towards  the  arm-chair 
and  stumbles  into  it,  his  attitude 
of  collapse  denoting  surrender. 

JEFFCOTE.  Thou  cursed  yoimg  fool !  I  could  find 
it  in  my  heart  to  take  a  strap  to  thee,  so  I  could. 
Why  hadn't  thou  the  sense  to  pay  for  thy  pleasm*es, 
instead  of  getting  mixed  up  with  a  straight  girl  ?  I've 
never  kept  thee  short  of  brass.  And  if  thou  must  have 
a  straight  girl,  thou  might  have  kept  off  one  from  the 
mill.     Let  alone  her  father's  one  of  my  oldest  friends. 

ALAN.     What  does  he  say  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  Say  ?  What  dost  thou  think  he  said  ? 
Does  thou  think  as  he  come  up  here  to  return  thanks  .'* 

ALAN.     But — but,  how  did  he  know  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     The  lass  has  told  them,  so  it  appears. 

ALAN.     She  promised  not  to. 

JEFFCOTE.     Happen  she  did.     And  what  then  ? 

ALAN.     What's  going  to  be  done  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     I  said  I'd  see  him  treated  right. 

ALAN  [brightening].     What'll  they  take  ? 

JEFFCOTE  [dangerously].  I  said  I'd  see  them 
treated  right.  If  thou  expects  I'm  going  to  square 
it  with  a  cheque,  and  that  thou's  going  to  slip  away 
scot  free,  thou's  sadly  mistaken. 

ALAN.     What  do  you  want  me  to  do  .'' 

JEFFCOTE.  I  know  what  thou's  going  to  do. 
Thou's  going  to  wed  the  lass. 

H.w.  D 


50  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i 

ALAN.     What  do  you  say  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Thou's  heard  me  all  right. 

ALAN.     Wed  her  ?     Fanny  Hawthorn  ! 

JEFFCOTE.     Ay !     Fanny  Hawthorn. 

ALAN.     But  I  cannot. 

JEFFCOTE.     Why  not  ? 

ALAN.     You  know — Beatrice — I  can't ! 

JEFFCOTE.     Thou  niun  tell  Beatrice  it's  off. 

ALAN.      How  can  I  do  that  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     That's  thy  look-out. 

ALAN   [risinfi  and  Jioldiufi  on  to  the  mantel-piece]. 
Look  here.     I  can't  do  it.     It  isn't  fair  to  Beatrice. 

JEFFCOTE.     It's  a  pity  thou  didn't   think  of  that 
before  thou  went  to  Llandudno  ! 

ALAN.     But  Avhat  can  I  tell  her  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Thou  num  tell  her  the  truth  if  thou 
can't  find  owt  better  to  say. 

ALAN.     The  truth ! 

[alan  again  collapses  in  the  chair.     A 
pause. 

JEFFCOTE.     What's  done  is  done.     We've  got  to 
stand  by  it. 

ALAN.     Father !     I  don't  want  to  wed  Fanny.     I 
w^ant  to  wed  Beatrice. 

JEFFCOTE.     Dost  thou  lovc  Beatrice  .? 

ALAN.     Yes. 

JEFFCOTE.     I'm  glad   of  it.     It's  right  that  thou 
should  suffer  as  well  as  her. 

[alan    is   overcome,    and    drops    into 
dialect  as  he  pleads. 

ALAN.     Father,  thou' 11  not  make  me  do  it !     Thou' 11 


sc.  3]  HINDLE   WAKES  51 

not  make  me  do  it !     I  cannot.     I'd  have  all  the  folk 
in  Hindle  laughing  at  me. 

[alan  breaks  down,  excitement  and 
drink  combined  being  too  much 
for  Mm. 

JEFFCOTE  [brusquely].  Come  now,  pull  thyselt 
together. 

ALAN.     Ay  !     It's  easy  talking  that  road. 

JEFFCOTE.     Thou  art  a  man,  now.     Not  a  kid  ! 

ALAN.  It's  me  that's  got  to  go  through  it.  It 
doesn't  hurt  thee  if  I  wed  Fanny  Hawthorn 

JEFFCOTE.     Does  it  not  ? 

ALAN.      No. 

JEFFCOTE.  So  thou  thinks  it  easy  for  me  to  see 
thee  wed  Fanny  Hawthorn  ?  Hearken  !  Dost  know 
how  I  began  life  ?  Dost  know  that  I  started  as 
tenter  in  Walmesley's  shed  when  I  were  eight  years  ol 
age,  and  that  when  the  time  comes  I  shall  leave  the 
biggest  fortune  ever  made  in  the  cotton  trade  in 
Hindle  ?  Dost  know  what  my  thought  has  been 
when  labouring  these  thirty  years  to  get  all  that 
brass  together  ?  Not  what  pleasure  I  could  get  out 
of  spending,  but  what  power  and  influence  I  were 
piling  up  the  while.  I  was  set  on  founding  a  great 
firm  that  would  be  famous  not  only  all  over  Lanca- 
shire but  all  over  the  world,  like  Horrockses  or 
Calverts  or  Hornbys  of  Blackburn.  Dost  think  as  I 
weren't  right  glad  when  thou  goes  and  gets  engaged 
to  Tim  Farrar's  lass  ?  Tim  Farrar  as  were  Mayor  of 
Hindle  and  got  knighted  when  the  King  come  to 
open  the  new  Town  Hall.     Tim  Farrar   that  owns 

d2 


52  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  i] 

Lane  End  Shed,  next  biggest  place  to  Daisy  Bank  in 
Hindle.  ^V^liy,  it  were  the  dearest  wish  of  uiy  heart 
to  see  thee  wed  Tim  Farrar's  lass  ;  and,  happen,  to 
see  thee  running  both  mills  afore  I  died.  And  now 
what  falls  out  ?  Lad  as  I'd  looked  to  to  keep  on  the 
tradition  and  build  the  business  bigger  still,  goes  and 
weds  one  of  my  own  weavers  !  Dost  think  that's  no 
disappointment  to  me  ?  Hearken !  I'd  put  down 
ten  thousand  quid  if  thou  could  lionestly  wed  Beatrice 
Farrar.  But  thou  can't  honestly  wed  her,  not  if  I 
put  down  a  million.  There's  only  one  lass  thou  can 
honestly  wed  now^  and  that's  Fanny  Hawthorn,  and 
by  God  I'm  going  to  see  that  thou  does  it ! 

[jEFFCOTE  stalks  out  of  the  room  with 
Jiis  candle  and  Ins  i)okc)\  which  he 
has  never  imt  down,  and  alan 
remains  huddled  up  and  motionless 
in  a-corner  of  the  arm-chair. 


THE     CURTAIN     FALLS 


ACT   II 

The  scene  is  again  the  hreakfast-room  at  the 
JEFFCOTEs'  house.  It  is  shortly  after  8  jj.??i. 
on  the  day  following  that  on  uhich  the  First 
Act  took  place .  The  evening  meal,  tea,  is  just 
over.  Only  MR.  and  mrs.  jeffcote  have  imr- 
takenofit.  ada  Jias  almost  finished  clearing 
away,  there  is  a  loaded  tray  on  the  sideboard 
and  the  coloured  cloth  is  not  yet  sp'cad, 
although  the  white  cloth  has  hern  removed. 
MRS.  jeffcote  is  sitting  hy  the  hearth,  and 
jeffcote  is  standing  ivitli  his  hack  to  the 
empty  fireplace  fdling  his  inpe.  It  is  not  yet 
dark,  hut  the  light  is  fading. 

jeffcote  [to  ada].     Come  now,  lass,  be  sharp  with 
your  siding  away. 

[ada  is  about  to  spread   the   coloured 
cloth.     MRS.    jeffcote   rises   and 
assists  Iter. 
MRS.  jeffcote.     Give  me  that  end,  Ada. 

[Tliey  spread  the  cloth  whilst  jeffcote 
lights    his  pipe,    and    then    ada 
hurries  out  with  the  tray. 
jeffcote.     That  girl  wants  wakening  up. 
MRS.  jeffcote.     What   are  you  in  such  a  hurry 
about,  Nat  ? 

53 


54  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

JEFFCOTE.     I've  got  summat  to  say  to  you. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Something  to  say  to  me.  Why 
couldn't  you  say  it  whilst  we  were  having  tea  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  It's  not  quite  the  sort  of  thing  to  say 
before  the  servant. 

MRS,  JEFFCOTE  [suTjmsed].     Why,  Nat,  what  is  it  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  Last  night  you  were  talking  of  taking 
Hinclle  Lotlge  for  Alan  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Ycs.  I  was  going  to  call  on 
Mrs.  Plews  this  afternoon,  only  it  wane  on  wet. 

JEFFCOTE  [hricjly].     Don't  go. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.       Why  UOt  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     There's  no  need. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Surely,  Nat,  you've  not  changed 
your  mind  again  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  Alan  won't  want  to  live  in  a  place  like 
Hindle  Lodge. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     His  wife  will. 

JEFFCOTE.     How  do  you  know  that  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     I've  asked  her. 

JEFFCOTE.     Nay,  you've  not. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Why,  Nat,  I  mentioned  it  to 
Beatrice  only  a  week  ago. 

JEFFCOTE.  Happen  you  did.  Alan's  not  going  to 
marry  Beatrice. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE  [dumhfoundcrccl].  Not  going  to 
marry [She  stoj^s.] 

JEFFCOTE.     That's  what  I  said. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Why  ?     Have  they  quarrelled  ? 

JEFFCOTE.       No. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Then,  what's  the  matter  ?    What 


ii]  HINDLE   WAKES  55 

has    happened  ?      When     did    you    get    to    know 
about  it  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     I  first  got  to  kuow  about  it  last  night. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE,  That  was  what  you  were  talking 
to  Alan  about  when  you  went  downstairs  last  night  ? 

JEFFCOTE.      Ay ! 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  And  you  said  you  were  lecturing 
him  on  coming  home  so  late.  Why  didn't  you  tell 
me  the  truth  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  I  knew  you'd  learn  it  soon  enough, 
and  I  didn't  want  to  spoil  your  nighfs  rest. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  to-day, 
then  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Tve  been  at  the  Mill  all  day. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  You  could  have  told  me  as  soon 
as  you  came  home. 

JEFFCOTE.     I  didn't  want  to  spoil  your  tea  for  you. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE  [icij^ii^J  ^'^'''  f'^^^l'  As  if  that 
mattered  ! 

JEFFCOTE.  Well,  then,  I  didn't  want  to  spoil  my 
tea. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Oh !  Nat,  what  is  it  that's 
happened  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  To  put  it  in  a  nutshell,  Alan's  not 
going  to  marry  Beatrice  because  another  girl  has  a 
better  right  to  him. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  But  liow  Can  that  be  ?  He's  been 
engaged  to  Beatrice  for  nearly  a  year. 

JEFFCOTE  [firimly].  Ay  !  He's  only  been  engaged 
to  Beatrice.  With  the  other  girl  he's  gone  a  step 
fui'ther. 


56  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  He's  not  gone  and  got  wed 
already  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  No.  He's  not  got  wed.  He  dispensed 
with  the  ceremony. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Dispensed  with  it  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Did  without. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE  [Hhoched].     Oh,  Nat ! 

JEFFCOTE.  Ay.  He  spent  last  week-end  with  a 
girl  at  Llandudno. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Thc  crcaturc  ! 

JEFFCOTE.       Eh  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE  [indignantly].  Why  are  such 
women  allowed  to  exist .'' 

JEFFCOTE  [Hcratchinfj  his  head].  Thou  niun  ask 
me  another.  I  never  looked  on  it  in  that  light 
before. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  And  at  Llandudno,  too,  of  all 
places       Why,  I've  been  there  many  a  time. 

JEFFCOTE.     What's  that  got  to  do  with  it  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I  shall  never  be  able  to  fancy  it 
again  !     And  I'm  so  fond  of  the  place. 

JEFFCOTE.  That's  a  pity.  Happen  you'll  get 
over  the  feeling  when  they're  manned. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  But  Nat,  it's  impossible !  Alan 
can't  marry  a  woman  of  that  sort ! 

JEFFCOTE.  She's  not  a  woman  of  that  sort.  She's 
a  straight  girl. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     How  cau  you  call  her  that  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  Well,  you  know  what  I  mean.  It's 
not  been  a  matter  of  business  with  her. 

MRS.    JEFFCOTE.      I   don't   See   that   that    makes 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  57 

things  any  better.  There  might  have  been  some 
excuse  for  her  if  it  had  been  a  matter  of  business. 
Really,  Nat,  you  must  see  that  the  woman  is  not  fit 
to  marry  Alan  ! 

JEFFCOTE.  Not  quite  so  fast.  You  don't  even 
know  who  she  is  yet. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Whoever  she  is,  if  she's  not  above 
going  away  for  the  week-end  with  a  man  she  can't 
be  fit  to  marry  our  son. 

JEFFCOTE.  Not  even  when  our  son's  the  man  she's 
been  away  with  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  That  has  nothinjj  to  do  with  the 
case.  It  is  evident  that  she  is  a  girl  with  absolutely 
no  principles. 

JEFFCOTE.  Dash  it  all !  at  that  rate  some  folk 
might  say  that  Alan's  not  fit  to  marry  her  because 
of  what  he's  done. 

MRS.    JEFFCOTE.       Well,    if    you    can't    see    the 

difference 

[He  docs  not  choose  to.     Slie  shrugs  her 
shoulders  and  continues. 

I'm  surprised  at  you,  Nat,  I  really  am.  You  seem  to 
take  a  delight  in  being  perverse  and  making  difficulties. 

JEFFCOTE.  Upon  my  soul,  mother,  I'd  no  idea 
thou  were  such  an  unscrupulous  one  before.  Don't 
you  want  to  do  a\  hat's  right. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.    Can't  you  offer  the  girl  some  money  ? 

JEFFCOTE.    Would  you  think  that  right  treatment  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  She  wouldn't  object.  She'd 
jump  at  it. 

JEFFCOTE.     Shall  I  tell  you  who  she  is  ? 


58  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

MRS,  JEFFCOTE.  Of  coiirsG  you'll  tcll  me  who  she  is. 
Though  that  won't  make  me  much  wiser,  for  I  don't 
suppose  I've  ever  heard  her  name  before. 

JEFFCOTE.     What  makes  you  think  that  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I'm  sure  nobody  I  know  would 
do  a  thing  like  that. 

JEFFCOTE.  She's  not  exactly  a  friend  of  yours, 
but  her  father  is  a  very  old  friend  of  mine.  His 
name's  Christopher  Hawthorn. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE   [ppai-moutlicd].     What  ! 

JEFFCOTE.     And  the  lass  is  his  daughter  Fanny. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Fanny  Hawthorn  !  Do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  that  the  lad's  going  to  marry  one  of  our 
own  weavers  .?  Why,  Nat,  you  must  be  out  of  your 
senses ! 

JEFFCOTE  [stuhhornly].     Think  so  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Why,  all  the  folk  in  Hindle  will 
be  laughing  at  us. 

JEFFCOTE.     Anything  else  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I  sliould  just  think  I  have  got 
something  else.  What  about  Timothy  Farrar,  for 
instance  ?     Have  you  thought  what  he'll  say  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  What  does  it  matter  what  Tim  Farrar 
says  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     There's  Beatrice. 

JEFFCOTE.  Ay !  there's  Beatrice.  I'm  right  sorry 
for  that  girl.  But  there's  the  other  girl  to  be  con- 
sidered, mind  you. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Does  Beatrice  know  yet  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  No.  I  told  Alan  we'd  go  up  to 
Farrar' s  to-night  and  have  it  out  with  them. 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  59 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Perhaps  he's  there  now. 

JEFFCOTE.  Nay.  He'll  not  be  back  from  Man- 
chester yet.  He  was  stopping  later  because  Raleigh's 
had  got  a  cable  in  from  India,  and  it  wasn't  trans- 
lated when  I  left.    Business  before  pleasure,  mother ! 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Then,  thank  goodness,  it's  not 
too  late. 

JEFFCOTE.     What  do  you  mean  by  that .'' 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     This  affair  has  got  to  be  stopped. 

JEFFCOTE.  Now,  old  lass,  don't  thou  start  meddling 
with  what  doesn't  concern  thee. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  That  a  nice  thing  !  It  concerns 
me  as  much  as  you.  I've  a  right  to  have  my  say 
when  it  comes  to  a  wife  for  Alan,  and  I'll  not  give 
way  without  a  struggle  to  a  girl  like  Fanny 
Hawthorn. 

JEFFCOTE.  Come,  now,  what's  wrong  with  her, 
after  all  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     She's  a  girl  without  any  character. 

JEFFCOTE.  Now,  I  should  say  she's  a  girl  with  a 
good  deal  of  character. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     The  wroug  sort. 

JEFFCOTE.  How  do  you  know  that  ?  We  don't 
know  what  made  her  go  away  with  Alan. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I  do.  It  was  one  of  two  things. 
Either  she's  thoroughly  wicked,  or  else  she  was 
simply  trying  to  make  him  marry  her,  and  whichever 
it  was  it's  evident  she's  no  fit  wife  for  Alan. 

JEFFCOTE.  Alan  should  have  thought  of  that 
earlier. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     You  are  taking  much  too  serious 


60  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

a  view  of  this  affair,  Nat ;  you  are,  indeed.  Mind 
you,  I'm  not  defending  what  Alan's  done.  I'm  as 
shocked  as  anyone.  I  know  it's  a  sin,  and  a  grievous 
one  too.  ^Vhat  puzzles  me  is  how  he  could  do  it. 
I  wonder  what  made  him.  I  don't  know  where  he 
got  it  from.  I'm  sure  he  didn't  get  it  from  my  side 
of  the  family  ! 

JEFFCOTE.     Happen  he  got  it  from  Adam. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Very  well,  then,  all  the  more 
reason  why  you  should  overlook  it. 

JEFFCOTE.  We  can't  overlook  them  sort  of  things 
in  Lancashire  same  as  we  could  in  the  Garden  of 
Eden. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  If  you  cau't  overlook  it  altogether 
there's  no  reason  why  you  should  want  to  punish  the 
lad  like  this.  It's  just  cruelty,  that's  what  it  is,  to 
make  him  marry  a  girl  out  of  the  Mill. 

JEFFCOTE.     You  mean  she's  beneath  him  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Of  coursc  she's  beneath  him. 

JEFFCOTE.  It's  ([ueer  what  short  memories  some 
folks  have  !  What  \\as  mv  fother,  I  should  like  to 
know  .?  And  thine,  too,  if  it  comes  to  that  ?  Why, 
I  wore  clogs  myself  until  I  was  past  twenty. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Yes,  and  if  you  don't  look  out 
your  grandson  will  wear  them  again.  Don't  forget 
the  old  saying :  "  There's  three  generations  from 
clogs  to  clogs." 

JEFFCOTE.  A  man  may  wear  worse  things  than 
clogs.  They're  grand  tackle  for  keeping  the  feet  out 
of  the  wet. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Don't  talk  so  foolishly,  Nat !     I 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  61 

know  as  well  as  you  do  that  before  you  die  you're 
hoping  to  see  Alan  a  big  man.  Member  for  H indie, 
perhaps.  You  know  whether  a  wife  like  Fanny 
Hawthorn  would  be  a  hindrance  to  him  or  not. 
/  JEFFCOTE.  If  a  man's  wife  gets  in  the  road  of  his 
career,  then  his  career  will  have  to  suffer. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  And  everyone  knows  what  that 
means.  He'll  be  blaming  her  all  the  time  for  stand- 
ing in  his  light,  and  so  his  home  life  will  be  ruined 
as  well. 

JEFFCOTE.  Marriage  is  a  ticklish  business  anyhow. 
There's  always  the  chance  of  a  bust-up. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Chauce,  indeed  !  It's  as  sure  as 
Fate  if  Alan  marries  Fanny,  and  you  know  that. 
I'hey'll  be  separated  in  five  years.  We've  seen  cases 
like  that  before. 

JEFFCOTE.     And  shall  again,  I've  little  doubt. 
MRS.  JEFFCOTE.      Well,   Alan's  shan't  be  one   of 
them  if  I  can  help  it. 

y    JEFFCOTE.     But  you  can't,  old  lass.     I  wear  the 
/breeches  in  this  house. 

'  MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I'll  be  no  party  to  it,  anyhow ! 
It  shan't  be  said  that  I  didn't  lift  my  voice  against 
the  wedding. 

[MRS.  JEFFCOTE   IS   nearly  sobbing  by 
this  time.     The  room  is  in  semi- 
darkness.     JEFFCOTE  listens. 
JEFFCOTE.     There's  the  front  door.     It'll  be  Alan. 
Come  now,  mother,  don't  make  a  scene. 

[MRS.  JEFFCOTE   iviijes  Her  eyes,     ada 
comes  in. 


62  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 


ADA.  If  you  please,  ma'am,  Sir  Timothy  Farrar 
and  Miss  Beatrice. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Oh !  [A  puuse.]  Mr.  Alan 
hasn't  come  in  yet  ? 

ADA.     No,  ma'am. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Are  they  in  the  drawing-room  ? 

ADA.     Yes,  ma'am. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Veiy  well. 

[ADA  withdraws. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Dear  me,  Nat,  this  is  very  awk- 
ward. Why  doesn't  Alan  come  home  ?  It's  too  bad 
of  him,  it  is  indeed. 

JEFFCOTE.  He's  ashamed  to  face  his  mother, 
happen  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  He  should  know  his  mother  better 
than  that. 

JEFFCOTE.  Then  he's  trying  to  drive  it  too  late 
to  go  up  to  Farrar's  to-night. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     That's  more  likely. 

JEFFCOTE.  Very  well.  He's  reckoned  without  his 
dad.  If  he's  too  much  of  a  coward  to  face  the  music 
himself,  I'll  do  it  for  him. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     What  are  you  going  to  do  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  Just  go  and  send  Tim  Farrar  in  here, 
while  you  keep  Beatrice  company  in  the  other 
room. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Arc  you  going  to  tell  him  ? 

JEFFCOTE.      Ay ! 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.    But  what  shall  I  say  to  Beatrice  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Say  nowt. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     But  I  Can't  talk  to  her  just  as  if 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  6S 


nothing  has  happened.     It  would  be  like  deceiving 
her.     I'm  not  cut  out  for  a  hypocrite. 

JEFFCOTE.     All  right.    Tell  her  everything.    She'll 
have  to  know  some  time. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE  [jdcadiiig].     Need  she  ever  know  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Whatever  falls  out,  it's  not  going  to 
be  hushed  up. 

MKS.  JEFFCOTE.     Strike  a  light,  Nat. 

[He  lights  the  gas. 

Do  I  look  as  if  I'd  been  crying  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Why  ?     Have  you  been  crying  ? 

MRS.    JEFFCOTE.       No. 

JEFFCOTE.     It  doesn't  show.     Nothing  to  speak  of. 

[MRS.    JEFFCOTE  gOCS  Ollt^  and  JEFFCOTE 

liglits  the  other  gas-jets,  until  the 
room  is  brightly  illuminated.  He 
gets  out  the  whisky  and  soda, 
SIR  TIMOTHY  FARRAR,  a  j^ortly  ved- 
faced,  rough  Lancashire  man  of 
fifty-nine  or  so,  with  a  scrubby 
growth  of  hair  under  liis  chin, 
af'pears  in  the  doorway.  He  is 
much  the  coarsest  and  commonest 
jyerson  in  the  play. 

JEFFCOTE  [curtly].     How  do,  Tim. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.      How  do,  Nat. 

JEFFCOTE  [nodding  to  a  chair].     Sit  you  do^m. 

SIR  TIMOTHY  [choosbig  the  best  chair].    Ay — ay  ! 

JEFFCOTE  [holding  out  a  cigar -box].    The  old  brand. 

SIR  TIMOTHY  [choosbig  the  best  cigar  with  delibera- 
tion].    I'll  have  a  drop  of  whisky,  too,  Nat. 


64  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 


JEFFCOTE.     Help  yourself. 

[JEFFCOTE    j>lacc8   tlic    wldsky   Itandy, 
and  then  closes  the  door. 
So  they've  made  you  Chairman  of  Hindle  Educa- 
tion Conmiittee,  Tim  ? 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Ay  !  Why  not  ?  Thou  knows  I 
were  reet  mon  for  the  job. 

JEFFCOTE.  Thou's  uot  douG  much  studying  since 
thou  were  eight  year  of  age. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Happen  I  haven't.  But  I'm  going 
to  take  damn  good  care  that  Hindle  new  Technical 
School  is  the  finest  in  Lancashire.  Or  Yorkshire 
either,  if  it  comes  to  that ! 

JEFFCOTE.  Why  not  finest  in  England  whilst  you 
are  about  it  ? 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  If  it's  finest  in  Lancashire  and  York- 
shire it  goes  without  saying  it's  finest  in  England. 
They  don't  know  how  to  spend  money  on  them  in 
the  South.  Besides,  what  should  they  want  with 
Technical  Schools  in  them  parts  ?  They  don't 
make  anything  to  speak  of. 

JEFFCOTE.     They're  a  poor  lot,  it's  true. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     I  were  in  London  all  last  week. 

JEFFCOTE.     Corporation  business  ? 

SIR   TIMOTHY.      Ay! 

JEFFCOTE.     Expenses  paid  ? 

SIR   TIMOTHY.      Ay  ! 

JEFFCOTE.     Thafs  the  style. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     Where's  the  lad  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Not  got  homc  yet. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.      Beatrice    were   expecting   him    to 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  65 

telephone  all  day,  but  he  didn't.  So  as  soon  as  we'd 
done  eating  she  were  on  pins  and  needles  to  look 
him  up. 

JEFFCOTE.  He  was  coming  round  to  your  place 
to-night. 

SIB  TIMOTHY.  I  told  the  lass  he'd  be  sure  to. 
She  hasn't  seen  him  for  ten  days,  thou  knows,  and 
that  seems  a  long  time  when  it's  before  the  wedding. 
It  doesn't  seem  so  long  afterwards.  That  reminds 
me  !    Have  you  seen  "  The  Winning  Post "  this  week  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Nay.     I  rarely  look  at  it. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  There's  a  tale  in  this  week — 
it'll  suit  thee  down  to  the  oround. 

JEFFCOTE.  Hold  on  a  bit.  There's  something  I've 
a  mind  to  tell  you. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Let  me  get  mine  off  my  chest  first. 
It's  about  a  fellow  who  took  a  girl  away  for  the 
week-end 

JEFFCOTE.     So's  mine. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Oh !  It's  the  same  one.  [He  is 
disappointed.'] 

JEFFCOTE.     Nay,  it  isn't. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     How  do  you  know  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Mine's  true. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  True,  is  it  ?  [He  considers.']  Well, 
let's  hear  it.     Who's  the  fellow  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Chap  out  of  Hindle. 

SIR  TIMOTHY  \looking  him  in  the  face^.  Here ! 
Who's  been  giving  me  away  ? 

JEFFCOTE.      Eh  ? 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     I  Say  who's  been  giving  me  away  ? 

H.W.  B 


66  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

JEFFCOTE.  Thee  ?  [He  stares  at  sir  timothy  and 
then  breaks  into  a  roar  of  laughter.]  Thou's  given 
thyself  away,  Tim  Farrar.  I  wasn't  talking  about 
thee  at  all. 

SIR  TIMOTHY  [wiping  his  hroic].  Eh  !  I  thought  as 
someone  had  seen  us  at  Brighton.  I  don't  mind  thee 
knowing,  but  if  the  wrong  person  gets  hold  of  that 
sort  of  thing  all  Hindle  is  apt  to  hear  about  it. 
Well,  who's  the  chap  ? 
JEFFCOTE.     Our  Alan. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  What !  The  young  devil !  I'd 
like  to  give  him  a  reet  good  hiding. 

JEFFCOTE.  Come.  Thou'rt  a  nice  man  to  talk, 
after  what  I've  just  learned. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Hang  it  all,  it's  different  with  me ! 
I'm  not  engaged  to  be  wed.  Why,  I  haven't  even 
got  a  wife  living.     [Fuming]  The  young  beggar ! 

JEFFCOTE.     I  thought  I'd  better  tell  thee  first. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Ay — ay  !  I'll  talk  pretty  straight 
to  him. 

JEFFCOTE.  Perhaps  you'll  choose  to  tell  Beatrice 
yourself. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     Tell  who  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Beatrice. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.    Why  ?    What's  it  got  to  do  with  her  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  Someone  will  have  to  tell  her.  She'll 
have  to  know  sooner  or  later. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  God  bless  my  soul,  Nat  Jeffcote  ! 
hast  thou  told  thy  missus  everything  thou  did  before 
thou  got  wed  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     I'd  nowt  to  tell  her. 


ii]  HINDLE   WAKES  67 


SIR  TIMOTHY.  I  always  thought  there  was  summat 
queer  about  thee,  Nat.  [He  shakes  his  head.]  Well, 
I'm  not  going  to  have  Bee  told  of  this  affair,  and 
that's  flat.     It's  all  over  and  done  with. 

JEFFCOTE.  It's  not  all  over.  You  don't  under- 
stand. This  girl  is  a  decent  girl,  thou  knows. 
Daughter  of  Chris  Hawthorn. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     What !     Him  as  slashes  for  thee  ? 

JEFFCOTE.      Ay ! 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  I've  seen  her.  A  sulky-looking 
wench.  Well,  I  cannot  see  w^hat  difference  it  makes 
who  the  girl  was.  I  reckon  Alan's  not  going  to 
marry  her. 

JEFFCOTE.     That's  just  what  he  is  going  to  do. 

SIR   TIMOTHY.      What ! 

JEFFCOTE.     You  heard  what  I  said. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  But  he's  going  to  marry  my 
Beatrice. 

JEFFCOTE.     If  he  does  he'll  be  had  up  for  bigamy. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Do  you  mean  to  say  he's  going  to 
throw  her  over  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     There's  no  need  to  put  it  that  way. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  There's  no  other  way  to  put  it  if  he 
weds  Fanny  Hawthorn. 

JEFFCOTE.     What  else  can  he  do  ? 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     There's  ways  and  means. 

JEFFCOTE.     For  instance 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     It's  Only  a  question  of  money. 

JEFFCOTE.     Have  you  forgotten  who  she  is  ? 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  She's  one  of  thy  weavers.  That'll 
cost  thee  a  trifle  more, 

E  2 


68  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 


JEFFCOTE.  She's  daughter  of  one  of  my  oldest 
friends. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  I'm  oiic  of  thy  oldest  friends,  like- 
wise. What  about  my  lass  ?  Have  you  thought 
what  a  fool  she'll  look  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  I'm  sorry.  But  t'other  girl  must  come 
first.  I  think  well  enough  of  Beatrice  to  know  she'll 
see  it  in  that  light  when  it's  put  to  her. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  And  who's  going  to  put  it  to  her,  I 
should  like  to  know  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  You  cau  put  it  to  her  yourself,  if  you've 
a  mind. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Dang  it  !  It's  a  nice  awkward  thing 
to  talk  to  a  lass  about.  Here  !  before  I  go  any 
further  with  this  job  I  want  to  see  Alan,  and  know 
for  certain  what  he's  going  to  do. 

JEFFCOTE.     He'll  do  what  I  tell  him. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  I  doubt  it  !  I  know  he's  a  fool,  but 
I  don't  think  he's  such  a  fool  as  all  that. 

[The  door  opens  and  alan  looks  in. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     Why — talk  of  the  devil 

ALAN.  Hello,  Sir  Timothy  !  Has  Bee  come  with 
you  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  She's  with  your  mother  in  the  drawing- 
room. 

ALAN.      Right. 

[alan  is  icithdrau-ing  when   jeffcote 
calls  him  hack. 

JEFFCOTE.  Here  !  I  say  !  Just  wait  awhile. 
We've  summat  to  say  to  you. 

[alan  comes  in  reluctantly. 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  69 

JEFFCOTE.     Anything  fresh  in  Manchester  ? 

ALAN.      No. 

JEFFCOTE.     Nowt  for  US  in  that  cable  .'' 

ALAN.       No. 

JEFFCOTE.     You're  very  late. 

ALAN.     I  got  something  to  eat  in  Manchester. 

[He  is  fur  icithdraicing  again. 

JEFFCOTE.  Hold  on  a  bit.  You'd  better  shut  the 
door  and  sit  down. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Now  then,  what's  all  this  I  hear 
tell  about  thee  ,'* 

ALAN  [to  jeffcote].     Have  you  been  telling  him  .'' 

JEFFCOTE.      Ay ! 

ALAN.     You'd  no  right  to  ! 

JEFFCOTE.      Hello ! 

ALAN.    It  was  my  business. 

JEFFCOTE.  It  was  your  business  right  enough,  but 
if  I'd  left  it  to  you  it  wouldn't  have  been  done.  I 
can  see  that  you  weren't  for  going  up  to  Farrar's 
to-night. 

ALAN.     No,  I  wasn't. 

JEFFCOTE  [(jrimhj].     I  knew  it. 

ALAN.  And  that's  just  why  you  hadn't  any  right 
to  tell  Sir  Timothy. 

JEFFCOTE.  You  young  fool  !  What  was  the  good 
of  hanging  back  ?  Sir  Timothy  had  got  to  be  told 
some  time,  I  reckon. 

ALAN.      Why .? 

JEFFCOTE.  Why  ?  You  don't  suppose  he's  going 
to  see  you  throw  his  Beatrice  over  without  knowing 
why  H 


70  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

ALAN.  "Who  says  I'm  going  to  throw  his  Beatrice 
over  ? 

JEFFCOTE  [lookiufi  hard  at  Jtini],     I  say  so. 

ALAN.  Happen  it  would  be  better  if  you'd  stick  to 
what  concerns  you  in  future. 

JEFFCOTE  [risinp].  What  the  deuce  dost Ihou  mean 
by  talking  to  me  that  road  ? 

SIR  TIMOTHY  [riswg].  Here  !  hold  on  a  bit. 
Don't  go  sliouting  the  lad  do^v^l,  Nat  Jeffcote.  I 
want  to  hear  what  he's  got  to  say. 

ALAN.  If  father  hadn't  opened  his  mouth  there'd 
have  been  no  call  to  say  anything.  It  wasn't  me  who 
started  to  make  difficulties. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  I'll  bet  it  wasn't.  You'd  have  let 
the  thing  slide  ? 

ALAN.     I'd  have  tried  to  settle  it. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Then  I  take  it  thou's  no  desire  to 
wed  Fanny  Hawthorn  ? 

ALAN.     I  don't  think  it's  necessary. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     No  morc  do  I. 

JEFFCOTE  [to  ALAN].  I  thought  wc  had  this  out 
last  night.  Were  you  so  drunk  that  you  couldn't 
take  in  what  I  said  ? 

ALAN.      No. 

JEFFCOTE.    Why  did  you  not  speak  out  then  ? 

ALAN.  You  never  gave  me  a  chance.  You  did  all 
the  talking  yourself. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  I'd  be  ashamed  to  say  that.  I'd  like 
to  see  the  man  as  could  shut  mij  mouth  when  I'd  had 
too  much  to  drink.  Thou  couldn't  do  it,  Nat,  fond 
of  shouting  as  thou  art ! 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  71 


ALAN.     He's  not  your  father, 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     Art  afraid  of  him  ? 

ALAN.      No. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Then  stand  up  to  him.  I'll  back 
thee  up. 

ALAN.  I've  told  him  I'm  not  going  to  wed  Fanny. 
What  more  does  he  want  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     You've  made  up  your  mind  ? 

ALAN.      Yes. 

JEFFCOTE.  Very  well.  I've  rarely  been  beat  up 
to  now,  and  I'm  not  going  to  be  beat  by  my  own 
lad! 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Hang  it  all,  Nat,  thou  cannot  take 
him  by  the  scruff'  of  the  neck  and  force  him  to  wed 
where  he  doesn't  want  to  ! 

JEFFCOTE.  No,  that's  true.  And  no  one  can  force 
me  to  leave  my  brass  where  I  don't  want  to. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     Thou's  uot  serious  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     I  am  that. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Thou  wouldn't  care  to  leave  Daisy 
Bank  outside  the  family. 

JEFFCOTE.  It  wouldn't  go  outside  the  family  if  I 
left  it  to  his  cousin  Travis. 

SIR  TIMOTHY  [firiniacing].  Thou  art  a  queer  chap, 
Nat ! 

ALAN.  So  it  comes  to  this.  If  I  don't  marry 
Fanny  you'll  leave  your  brass  to  Travis  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     That's  it. 

ALAN.  I  see.  [He  thinks  a  moment.^  And  would 
Travis  be  expected  to  take  Panny  over  along  with 
the  mill.? 


72  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

[jEFFCOTE  winces,  and  viakrs  as  if  to 
reply  aiujrihj,  hut  he  thinks  better 
of  it  and  remains  grimly  silent. 
A  pause. 

ALAN.  Very  well.  Leave  it  to  Travis.  I'm  going 
to  stick  to  Beatrice. 

JEFFCOTE.  Right.  Yoii  haven't  thought  what  you 
and  Beatrice  are  going  to  live  on,  have  you  ? 

ALAN.  I'm  not  such  a  fool  that  I  can't  earn  my 
own  living. 

JEFFCOTE.  AVhat  you'll  earn  won't  go  very  far  if 
you  have  to  keep  a  girl  like  Beatrice. 

ALAN.  Beatrice  and  I  can  manage  like  you  and 
mother  did. 

JEFFCOTE.  No,  you  can't.  You  haven't  been 
brought  up  to  it. 

ALAN.     Then  Sir  Timothy  will  help  us. 

JEFFCOTE.  Sir  Timothy  ?  Oh,  ay !  [He  laucjhs 
sardonically S\  I'd  like  to  hear  what  Tim  Farrar 
thinks  of  the  situation  now. 

SIR  TIMOTHY  [scratcJiing  Jiis  licad].  It's  not  straight 
of  thee,  Nat.    Thou's  not  acting  right. 

JEFFCOTE.     I've  put  thee  in  a  bit  of  a  hole,  like  ? 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Thou's  made  it  very  awkward  for 
me. 

ALAN.  I  like  that !  It  was  you  who  told  me  to 
stand  up  to  father.     You  said  you'd  back  me  up. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Oh,  ay  !  I'll  back  thee  up  all  right. 
But  there's  no  good  in  losing  our  tempers  over  this 
job,  thou  knows.  I  don't  want  to  see  a  split  'twixt 
thee  and  thy  father. 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  73 

ALAN.    If  I  don't  mind,  I  don't  see  why  you  should. 

SIK  TIMOTHY.  Loi'd  bless  thee  !  if  thou  art  bent  on 
a  row,  have  it  thy  own  way.  But  thy  father's  one 
of  my  oldest  friends,  think  on,  and  I'm  not  going  to 
part  from  him  for  thy  sake.  Thou  can  quarrel  with 
him  if  thou's  a  mind  to,  but  don't  expect  me  to  do 
the  same. 

ALAN.     You're  trying  to  draw  out,  now. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  I'll  stand  in  at  anything  in  reason, 
but  I'll  be  no  party  to  a  bust-up.  Besides,  now  I 
come  to  think  of  it,  I'm  not  sure  thou's  treated  my 
Beatrice  right. 

ALAN.     Hello ! 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  No,  I'm  uot.  When  a  chap's 
engaged  he  ought  to  behave  himself.  From  the  way 
thou's  been  carrying  on  thou  might  be  married  already. 

ALAN.  Look  here  !  You  knew  all  this  five  minutes 
ago,  when  you  told  me  to  stand  up  to  my  father. 
What's  happened  to  change  you  ? 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Tliou's  Very  much  mistaken  if  thou 
thinks  I've  changed  my  mind  because  thy  father's 
leaving  the  Mill  to  thy  cousin  Travis.  I'm  not  the 
man  to  do  that  sort  of  thing.  Besides,  what  do  I 
care  about  thy  father's  brass  ?  I'm  worth  as  much 
as  he  is. 

JEFFCOTE  \^pleasantlij\     That's  a  lie,  Tim  Farrar. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Lie  or  not,  I'm  worth  enough  to  be 
able  to  snap  \\\y  fingers  at  thy  brass.  I'll  not  see  my 
lass  insulted  by  thy  lad,  not  if  thou  were  ten  times 
as  rich  as  thou  makes  out  ! 

ALAN  \^exasperated\     But  don't  you  see 


74  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

SIR  TIMOTHY.       No,  I  doil't. 

JEFFCOTE.  Yes,  you  do.  You're  only  trying  to 
draw  a  red-herring  across  the  track. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     Be  damned  to  that  for  a  tale  ! 

JEFFCOTE.      It's  right. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     Dost  take  nie  for  a  mean  beggar  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  No.  I  take  thee  for  a  business  man. 
I  never  think  of  thee  as  owt  else. 

SIR  TIMOTHY  [uitli  licat].  Dost  tell  me  thou  can 
believe  I  don't  wish  Alan  to  marry  Bee  just  because 
of  what  thou's  said  about  leaving  thy  brass  ? 

JEFFCOTE.      I  do. 

[A  j^aiise.     SIR  timothy  looks  hard  at 

JEFFCOTE. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     Well !     And  why  not .'' 

JEFFCOTE.     Don't  ask  me.     I  don't  object. 

ALAN.     Aren't  you  ashamed  to  say  that  ? 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  No.  And  if  thou'd  been  in  weaving 
as  long  as  I  have,  thou  wouldn't  either.  Thou's  got 
to  keep  an  eye  on  the  main  chance. 

ALAN.  But  you've  got  plenty  of  money  yourself. 
Quite  enough  for  the  two  of  us. 

SIR  TIMOTHY  [icMmsicaUij].  Well,  blow  me  if  thou 
aren't  the  best  business  man  of  the  lot !  Thou  comes 
along  and  asks  me  for  my  daughter  and  my  money. 
And  what  does  thou  offer  in  exchange  ?  Nowt  but 
thyself!     It  isn't  good  enough,  my  lad. 

ALAN.     Good  enough  or  not,  ifs  the  best  I  can  do. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     It  won't  do  for  me. 

ALAN.     I  shan't  bother  about  you. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     Eh  ?     What's  that  ? 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  75 

ALAN.  I  don't  want  to  marry  you.  I  shall  leave 
it  to  Beatrice. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Bee'll  do  what  I  tell  her.  Thou  can 
take  that  from  me. 

ALAN.  No  thanks.  I'll  ask  her  myself.  I  don't 
care  a  hang  for  the  pair  of  you.  I'm  going  to  stick 
to  Beatrice  if  she'll  have  me.  You  can  cut  us  off 
with  a  shilling  if  you've  a  mind  to,  both  of  you. 

SIR  TIMOTHY  [icorviecl].  Hang  it !  Thou  knows  I 
cannot  do  that  with  my  Bee.  I  call  it  taking  a  mean 
advantage  of  me,  that  I  do  ! 

JEFFCOTE.     Why  cannot  you  cut  off'  your  lass  ? 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Thou  kuows  well  enough  that  I 
cannot. 

JEFFCOTE.       I  could. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  I  don't  doubt  it.  But,  thank  God, 
I'm  not  like  thee,  Nat  Jeffcote.  I  sometimes  think 
thou'st  got  a  stone  where  thy  heart  should  be  by 
rights. 

JEFFCOTE.     Happen,  I've  got  a  pair  of  scales. 
SIR  TIMOTHY.     That's  nowt  to  boast  of.     I'd  as  soon 
have  the  stone. 

[Tlte   door  opens   and  mrs.  jeffcote 
looks  in. 
MRS.  JEFFCOTE    [sccinf/  alan].     Beatrice  wants  to 
speak  to  you,  Alan. 

[MRS.    JEFFCOTE    enters,   followed    hy 
BEATRICE    FARRAR,   a    determined 
straiglitforicard     girl     of    about 
twenty-three. 
sir  timothy  [to  BEATRICE].     Now  my  lass 


76  HINDLE   WAKES  [aci 


BEATRICE.     Father,  I  want  to  speak  to  Alan. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  I'd  like  to  have  a  word  with  thee 
first,  Bee. 

BEATRICE.     Afterwards,  father. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Ay  !  but  it'll  be  too  late  afterwards, 
happen ! 

JEFFCOTE.  Come,  Tim,  thou  can't  meddle  with 
this  job. 

SIR  TIMOTHY  [worricd].     I  call  it  a  bit  thick  ! 

BEATRICE.      Please,  father. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Couie  into  the  drawing-room, 
Sir  Timothy.     You  can  smoke  there,  you  know. 

SIR  TIMOTHY  [r/rnmhUng].     A  bit  thick  ! 

[He  is  led  out  by  mrs.  jeffcote. 
JEFFCOTE  is  following,  tvlien  he 
turns  in  the  doorway. 

JEFFCOTE.  ril  overlook  all  you've  said  to-night  if 
you'll  be  guided  by  me.  But  it's  your  last  chance, 
mind. 

ALAN.     All  right. 

JEFFCOTE  [lialf  to  Jiimself].  I  never  fancied  thy 
cousin  Travis. 

[sir  TIMOTHY  rctuTHs  to  tlic  doorway. 

SIR  TIMOTHY  [indignantly].  Here!  What's  all 
this  ?  Thou  wouldn't  let  me  stop  behind  !  What's 
thou  been  saying  to  Alan  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  Telling  him  not  to  make  a  fool  of 
himself. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     I  don't  Call  it  fair 

JEFFCOTE.  Come  along.  Don't  thee  make  a  fool 
of  thyself,  either. 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  77 

[JEFFCOTE    draws    SIR    TIMOTHY   Ollt    of 

the  room. 
[After  they  have  gone  alan  closes  the 
door,  and  then  turns  slowly  to 
BEATRICE.  They  do  not  speak  at 
first.  At  last  Beatrice  almost 
whispers. 

BEATRICE.     Alan ! 

ALAN.     So  they've  told  you  ? 

BEATRICE.       Yes. 

ALAN.  Perhaps  it's  as  well.  I  should  have  hated 
telling  you. 

BEATRICE.     Alan,  why  did  you ? 

ALAN.     I  don't  know.     It  was  her  lips. 

BEATRICE.     Her  lips  ? 

ALAN.     I  suppose  so. 

BEATRICE.     I — I  see. 

ALAN.  I'm  not  a  proper  cad,  Bee.  I  haven't  been 
telling  her  one  tale  and  you  another.  It  was  all 
an  accident,  like. 

BEATRICE.     You  mean  it  wasn't  arranged  ? 

ALAN.  No,  indeed,  it  wasn't.  I  shouldn't  like  you 
to  think  that.  Bee.     I  ran  across  her  at  Blackpool. 

BEATRICE.    You  didn't  go  to  Blackpool  to  meet  her  ? 

ALAN.  On  my  oath  I  didn't !  I  went  there  in  the 
car  with  George  Ramsbottom. 

BEATRICE,     ^\^lat  became  of  him  ? 

ALAN.  Him  ^  Oh  !  George  is  a  pal.  He  made 
himself  scarce. 

BEATRICE.  Just  as  you  would  have  done,  I  suppose, 
if  he  had  been  in  your  place  ? 


78  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

ALAN.  Of  course !  What  else  can  a  fellow  do  ? 
Two's  conipaii}',  you  know.  But  old  George  would 
be  all  right.  I  daresay  he  picked  up  something 
himself. 

BEATRICE.  You  knew  her  before  you  met  her  at 
Blackpool  ? 

ALAN.  Of  course.  There's  not  so  many  pretty 
girls  in  Hindle  that  you  can  miss  one  like  Fanny 
Hawthorn.  I  knew  her  well  enough,  but  on  the 
straight,  mind  you.  I  thought  she  looked  gay,  that 
was  all.  I'd  hardly  spoken  to  her  before  I  ran  into 
her  at  the  Tower  at  Blackpool. 

BEATRICE.     So  you  met  her  at  the  Tower  ? 

ALAN.  Yes.  AVe'd  just  had  dinner  at  the  Metro- 
pole  Grill-room,  George  and  I,  and  I  daresay  we  had 
drunk  about  as  much  champagne  as  was  good  for  us. 
We  looked  in  at  the  Tower  for  a  lark,  and  we  ran 
into  Fanny  in  the  Ball-room.  She  had  a  girl  with 
her — Mary — Mary — something  or  other.  I  forget. 
Anyhow,  George  took  Mary  on,  and  I  went  with 
Fanny. 

BEATRICE.      Yes  ? 

ALAN.  Next  day  I  got  her  to  come  with  me  in  the 
car.     We  went  to  Llandudno. 

BEATRICE.       Yes  ? 

ALAN.     There's  not  much  more  to  say. 
BEATRICE.      And    I've   got   to   be   satisfied    with 
that .? 

ALAN.     What  else  do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  ? 

BEATRICE.     Didn't  you  ever  think  of  me  ? 

ALAN.    Yes,  Bee,  I  suppose  I  did.     But  you  weren't 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  79 

there,  you  see,  and  she  was.  That  was  what  did  it. 
Being  near  her  and  looking  at  her  lips.  Then  I 
forgot  everything  else.  Oh  !  I  know.  I'm  a  beast. 
I  couldn't  help  it.  I  suppose  you  can  never  under- 
stand. It's  too  much  to  expect  you  to  see  the 
difference. 

BEATRICE.     Between  me  and  Fanny  ? 

ALAN.  Yes.  Fanny  was  just  an  amusement — a 
lark.  I  tliought  of  her  as  a  girl  to  have  a  bit  of  fun 
with.  Going  off'  with  her  was  like  going  off"  and 
getting  tight  for  once  in  a  way.  You  wouldn't  care 
for  me  to  do  that,  but  if  I  did  you  wouldn't  think 
very  seriously  about  it.  You  wouldn't  want  to  break 
off"  our  engagement  for  that.  I  wonder  if  you  can 
look  on  this  affair  of  Fanny's  as  something  like  getting 
tight — only  worse.  I'm  ashamed  of  myself,  just  as  I 
should  be  if  you  caught  me  drmik.  I  can't  defend 
myself.  I  feel  just  an  utter  swine.  What  I  felt  for 
Fanny  was  simply — base — horrible 

BEATRICE.  And  how  had  you  always  thought 
of  me  ? 

ALAN.  Oh,  Bee,  Avhat  I  felt  for  you  was  something 
— higher — finer 

BEATRICE.  Was  it  ?  Or  are  you  only  trying  to 
make  yourself  believe  that  ? 

ALAN.     No.     I  respected  you. 

BEATRICE  \_tkinkiug].  I  wonder  which  feeling  a 
woman  would  rather  arouse.  And  I  wonder  which  is 
most  like  love  ? 

ALAN.  All  the  time,  Bee,  I  have  never  loved  any- 
one else  but  you. 


80  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 


BEATRICE.  You  Say  so  now.  But,  forgive  me 
dear,  how  am  I  to  know  ?  You  have  given  Fanny 
the  greater  proof. 

ALAN.  I'm  trying  to  show  you  that  Fanny  was  one 
thing,  you  were  another.  Can't  you  understand  that 
a  fellow  may  love  one  girl  and  amuse  himself  with 
another  ?  [Dcs^wndcntlij]  No,  I  don't  supj)ose  you 
ever  can  ? 

BEATRICE.  I  think  I  can.  We  were  different 
kinds  of  women.  (3n  separate  planes.  It  didn't 
matter  to  the  one  how  you  treated  the  other. 

ALAN.  That's  it.  Going  away  ^\•ith  Fanny  was 
just  a  fancy — a  sort  of  freak. 

BEATRICE.  But  you  have  never  given  me  any 
proof  half  so  great  as  that. 

ALAN.  Haven't  I  ?  I'll  give  it  you  now.  You 
know  that  father  says  I  am  to  marry  Fanny  ? 

BEATRICE.     Your  mother  told  me  he  wished  it. 

ALAN.  Wished  it !  He's  set  his  mind  on  it.  He 
won't  leave  me  a  farthing  miless  I  marry  her. 

BEATRICE.     What  did  you  tell  him  ? 

ALAN.  If  you  can't  guess  that  you  haven't  much 
confidence  in  me. 

BEATRICE.    That's  hardly  my  fault,  is  it  ? 

ALAN.  No.  Well,  I  told  him  I'd  see  him  damned 
first — or  words  to  that  effect. 

BEATRICE  [with  a  movement  of  pleasure].  You 
did.? 

ALAN.  Yes.  Is  that  good  enough  for  you,  Bee  ? 
You  wanted  proof  that  it  is  you  I  love.  I've  chucked 
aw^ay  everything  I  had  to  expect  in  the  world  rather 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  81 

than   give    you   up.      Isn't   that   good   enough   for 
you? 

BEATRICE.     Alan ! 

ALAN  [qiiickli/  clasjying  her].  Bee,  in  a  way  I've 
been  faithful  to  you  all  the  time.  I  tried  hard 
enough  to  forget  all  about  you,  but  I  couldn't.  Often 
and  often  I  thought  about  you.  Sometimes  I  thought 
about  you  when  I  was  kissing  Fanny.  I  tried  to 
pretend  she  was  you.  She  never  guessed,  of  course. 
She  thought  it  was  her  I  was  kissing.  But  it  wasn't. 
It  was  you.  Oh,  the  awfulness  of  having  another 
girl  in  my  arms  and  wanting  you  ! 

[BEATRICE  does  iiot  aiisicev.    She  closes 
her  eyes,  overcome. 

Bee,  you'll  stick  to  me,  although  I  shan't  have  a 
penny  ?  Til  get  to  work,  though.  I'll  work  for  you. 
You  won't  have  any  cause  to  reproach  me.  If  only 
you'll  stick  to  me.  If  only  you'll  tell  me  you 
forgive   me  ! 

BEATRICE  [at  length].  Could  you  have  forgiven  me 
if  I  had  done  the  same  as  you  ? 

ALAN  [surprised].  But — you — you  couldn't  do 
it! 

BEATRICE.     Fanny  Hawthorn  did. 

ALAN.     She's  not  your  class. 

BEATRICE.     She's  a  woman. 

ALAN.    That's  just  it.     It's  different  with  a  woman. 

BEATRICE.  Yet  you  expect  me  to  forgive  you.  It 
doesn't  seem  fair ! 

ALAN.     It  isn't  fair.     But  it's  usual. 

BEATRICE.     It's  what  everybody  agrees  to. 

H.w.  P 


82  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 


ALAN.  Yon  always  say  that  you  aren't  one  of 
these  advanced  women.  You  ought  to  agree  to  it 
as  well. 

BEATRICE.     I  do.     I  can  see  that  there  is  a  differ- 
ence between  men  and  women  in  cases  of  this  sort. 
ALAN.     You  can  ? 

BEATRICE.     Men  haven't  so  much  self-control. 
ALAN.     Don't  be  cruel,  Bee.     There's  no  need  to 
rub  it  in  ! 

BEATRICE.  I'm  not  being  personal,  Alan.  I'm 
old-fashioned  enough  to  really  believe  there  is  that 
difference.  You  see,  men  have  never  had  to  exercise 
self-control  like  women  have.  And  so  I'm  old- 
fashioned  enough  to  be  able  to  forgive  you. 

ALAN.  To  forgive  me,  and  marry  me,  in  spite  of 
what  has  happened,  and  in  spite  of  your  father  and 
mine  ? 

BEATRICE.  I  care  nothing  for  my  father  or  yours. 
I  care  a  good  deal  for  what  has  happened,  but  it 
shows,  I  think,  that  you  need  me  even  more  than  I 
need  you.  For  I  do  need  you,  Alan.  So  much  that 
nothing  on  earth  could  make  me  break  off  our 
engagement,  if  I  felt  that  it  was  at  all  possible  to  let 
it  go  on.     But  it  isn't.     It's  impossible. 

ALAN.     Impossible  ?     Why  do  you  say  that  ?     Of 
course  it's  not  impossible. 

BEATRICE.     Yes,  it  is.     Because  to  all  intents  and 
purposes  you  are  already  married. 
ALAN.     No,  Bee  ! 

BEATRICE.      You    say    I'm    old-fashioned.      Old- 
fashioned    people  used    to  think    that  when  a  man 


II]  HINDLE   WAKES  83 

treated  a  girl  as  you  have  treated  Fanny  it  was  his 
duty  to  marry  her. 

ALAN.     You  aren't  going  to  talk  to  me  like  father 
Bee? 

BEATRICE.  Yes.  But  with  your  father  it  is  only  a 
fad.  You  know  it  isn't  that  with  me.  I  love  you,  and  I 
believe  that  you  love  me.  And  yet  I  am  asking  you 
to  give  me  up  for  Fanny.  You  may  be  sure  that 
only  the  very  strongest  reasons  could  make  me  do 
that. 

ALAN.  Reasons !  Reasons  !  Don't  talk  about 
reasons,  when  you  are  doing  a  thing  like  this  ! 

BEATRICE.  You  may  not  be  able  to  understand  my 
reasons.  You  have  always  laughed  at  me  because  I 
go  to  church  and  believe  things  that  you  don't 
believe. 

ALAN.  I  may  have  laughed,  but  I've  never  tried 
to  interfere  with  you. 

BEATRICE.  Nor  I  with  you.  We  mustn't  begin  it 
now,  either  of  us. 

ALAN.  Is  this  what  your  religion  leads  you  to  ? 
Do  you  call  it  a  Christian  thing  to  leave  me  in  the 
lurch  with  Fanny  Hawthorn  ?  When  I  need  you  so 
much  more  than  I've  ever  done  before  ? 

BEATRICE.  I  don't  know.  It's  not  w^hat  I  crd 
argue  about.  I  was  born  to  look  at  things  just  in 
the  way  I  do,  and  I  can't  help  believing  what  I  do. 

ALAN.     And  what  you  believe  comes  before  me  'i 

BEATRICE.  It  comes  before  everything.  \_A  2Mii8e.] 
Alan  promise  that  you'll  do  what  I  wish. 

ALAN.     You  love  me  ? 

F  2 


84  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

BEATRICE.     If  I  love  anything  on  earth  I  love  you. 

ALAN.     x\nd  you  want  me  to  marry  Fanny  ? 

BEATRICE.  Yes.  Oh,  Alan  !  can't  you  see  what  a 
splendid  sacrifice  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  make  ? 
Not  only  to  do  the  right  thing,  but  to  give  up  so 
much  in  order  to  do  it.  [.4  2)au8e.]  Alan,  promise 
me. 

ALAN  [noddinri  sidlcnlij].     Very  well. 

BEATRICE  [gladly].  You  have  sufficient  courage 
and  strength  ? 

ALAN.  I'll  do  what  you  ask,  but  only  because  I 
can  see  that  your  talk  is  all  humbug.  You  don't 
love  me.  You  are  shocked  by  what  I  did,  and  you're 
glad  to  find  a  good  excuse  for  getting  rid  of  me.  All 
right.     I  understand. 

BEATRICE  [in  agony].  You  don't — you  don't 
understand. 

ALAN.  Faugh  !  You  might  have  spared  me  all 
that  goody-goody  business. 

BEATRICE  [faintly].     Please 

ALAN.     You  don't  care  for  me  a  bit. 

BEATRICE  [ijassionately].  Alan  !  You  don't  know 
what  it's  costing  me. 

[alan  looks  at  her  keenly,  and  then 
seizes  her  violently  and  kisses  her 
several  times.  She  yields  to  him 
and  returns  his  embrace. 

ALAN  [s2)eaking  quickly  and  excitedly].  Bee, 
you're  talking  nonsense.  You  can't  give  me  up — 
you  can't  give  me  up,  however  much  you  try. 

[BEATRICE  tears  herself  aivay  from  him. 


ii]  HINDLE   WAKES  85 

BEATRICE.  You  don't  know  me.  I  can.  I  will. 
I  shall  never  be  your  wife. 

ALAN.     I     won't     take     that     for     an     answer — 

Bee 

BEATRICE.  No,  no,  no  !  Never,  never !  whilst 
Fanny  Hawthorn  has  a  better  right  to  you  than  I 
have. 

[Tliere   is   a   long  pause.     At   length 
comes  a  knock  at  the  door. 
ALAN.     Hello ! 

[jEFFCOTE  puts  his  head  inside. 
JEFFCOTE.     Nine  o'clock. 
ALAN.     What  of  it  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Hawthorns  are  due  up  here  at  nine. 
ALAN  [shortly].     Oh  ! 
BEATRICE.     Is  my  father  there  ? 
JEFFCOTE.     Ay  !     [Calling]  Tim  ! 

[sir  TIMOTHY  appears  in  the  doorway. 
SIR  TIMOTHY.     Well  ?     Fixed  it  up,  eh  ? 
BEATRICE.     Alan  and  I  are  not  going  to  be  married, 
father. 

[Tliere  is  a  pause. 

JEFFCOTE.      Ah ! 

SIR  TIMOTHY.     I'm  sure  it's  all  for  the  best,  lass. 

BEATRICE.  Are  you  quite  ready,  father .''  I  want 
you  to  take  me  home. 

SIR  TIMOTHY.  Ay— ay !  Shall  I  get  thee  a  cab, 
Bee.? 

BEATRICE.  I'd  rather  walk,  please,  [beatrice 
goes  to  tlie  door.]     I'll  write  to  you,  Alan. 

[She  goes  out,  followed  by  sir  timothy. 


86  HINDLE   WAKES  [act  ii] 

JEFFCOTE.     So  you've  thought  better  of  it  ? 
ALAN.     Seems  so. 

JEFFCOTE.     And   you'll  wed  Fanny   Hawthorn,  I 
take  it  ? 
ALAN  [laconically].     Ay  ! 

JEFFCOTE.     Thou'ii  a  good  lad,  Alan.     I'm  right 
pleased  with  thee. 

[alan  hursts  into  a  loud  peal  of  mirthless 
laiKjlitcr. 
[ JEFFCOTE  stares  at  alan  in  surprise. 
JEFFCOTE.     AVhat's  the  matter  ? 
ALAN.     Nothing,  father. 

[He  iiinc/s  himself  listlessh)  into  an 
arm-chair.  JEFFC0TE,a/if('r another 
look  at  liim,  scratches  his  head  and 
goes  out. 


THE    CURTAIN    FALLS 


ACT   III 

The  scene  is  the  same  as  in  the  previous  Act,  the 
time  a  few  minutes  later.  The  room  is  empty. 
ADA.  opens  the  door  and  shows  in  mks.  hawthorn, 
CHRISTOPHER,  and  FANNY,  who  file  in  silently  and 
awkwardly.  Instead  of  a  hat,  fanny  is  wearing 
the  shawl  that  Lancashire  weavers  commonly  wear 
when  going  to  the  Mill. 

ADA  [glancing  hack  at  them  from  the  door].     Will 
you  take  a  seat,  please. 

[ADA  goes  out.     Christopher  and  mrs. 
hawthorn   sit   on    chairs  placed 
against   the    hack    ivall.      fanny 
remains  standing. 
MRS.  hawthorn.     Fanny,  sit  you  dovvn. 

[fanny  silently  seats  herself.     They  are 
all  three  in  a  row  along  the  hack 
icall,  very  stiff  and  awkward. 
[Presently  jeffcote  enters.     T/<e  haw- 
thorns all  rise.      He  greets  the 
three  drily. 
jeffcote   [nodding].     Evening,  Chris.     [To   MRS. 
hawthorn.]     Good  evening.     [He  stops  in  front  of 
FANNY.]     Good  evening,  lass. 

[He  eyes  her  from  tip  to  toe  with  a 
searching   stare.     She   returns  it 
quite  simply  and  boldly. 
87 


88  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

JEFFCOTE  [satisfied].     Ay ! 

[He  turns  away  to   the  hearth^  ivhere 

he   takes    his  stand  just  as   MRS. 

JEFFCOTE  conies  in.     She  is  stiff 

and  ill  at  ease. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE  [to  thcm  all  ivithout  loolxing  at  them]. 

Good  evening. 

[MRS.       HAWTHORN      and       CHRISTOPHER 

murmur  a  greeting^  and  mrs. 
JEFFCOTE  passes  on  to  the  fire, 
having  cut  them  as  nearly  as  she 
dared,  alan  lounges  in  sheepishly. 
He  does  not  say  anytldng,  but  nods 
to  the  three  in  a  subdued  way,  and 
sits  down  sullenly  on  the  L.,far 
away  from  his  father  and  mother. 

JEFFCOTE  [to  the  hawthorns].     Sit  down. 

[They  are  about  to  sit  against  the  icall 
as  before,  but  he  stops  them. 

JEFFCOTE.     Not  there.     Draw  up  to  the  table. 

[They  seat  themselves  round  the  table. 
The  disposition  of  the  characters 
is  as  follows.  On  the  extreme 
L.  is  ALAN,  in  a  big  arm-chair. 
Sitting  on  the  left  of  the  table  is 
FANNY.  Behind  the  table,  mrs. 
hawthorn.  On  the  right  of  the 
table,  CHRISTOPHER.  Further  to 
the  right,  in  an  arm-chair  near 
the  hearth,  is  mrs.  jeffcote.  As 
for  JEFFCOTE,  he  stands  up  with  his 


Ill]  HINDLE   WAKES  89 

hack  to  the  cmjJti/  fireijlacc.     Tluis 

he   can   dominate   the   scene  and 

tvalk  about  if  he  feels  inclined. 

JEFFCOTE.     Well,   here    we    are,    all    of   us.     We 

know   whafs  brought  us  together.     It's  not  a  nice 

job,  but  it's  got  to  be  gone  through,  so  we  may  as  well 

get  to  business  right  away. 

CHRISTOPHEK.       Ay  ! 

JEFFCOTE.  We  don't  need  to  say  owt  about  what's 
happened,  do  we  ? 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     No,  I  don't  See  as  we  need. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Excuse  me.  I  think  we  do.  I 
know  hardly  anything  of  what  has  happened. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     It's  admitted  by  them  both. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  But  what  is  admitted  by  them 
both  ?     It's  rather  important  to  know  that. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  You're  hoping  that  we  won't 
be  able  to  prove  owt  against  Alan.  You  think  that 
happen  he'll  be  able  to  wriggle  out  of  it. 

JEFFCOTE.  There'll  be  no  wriggling  out.  Alan 
has  got  to  pay  what  he  owes,  and  I  don't  think 
there's  any  doubt  what  that  is.  It's  true  I've  only 
heard  his  version.     What's  Fanny  told  you  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.       Nowt. 

JEFFCOTE.       Nowt  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.       Nowt. 

JEFFCOTE.      How's  that  ? 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.    She's  turned  stupid,  that's  why. 

JEFFCOTE.  I'll  have  to  have  a  go  at  her,  then.  [To 
FANNY,]  It  seems  my  lad  met  you  one  night  in  Black- 
pool and  asked  you  to  go  to  Llandudno  with  him  ? 


90  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

FANNY.     Yes,     What  then  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     He  was  drmik  ? 

FANNY.     No.     He  wasn't  what  yoiul  call  drunk. 

JEFFCOTE.     As  near  as  makes  no  matter,  I'll  bet. 

FANNY.  Anyhow,  he  was  sober  enough  next  morning 
when  we  went  away. 

JEFFCOTE.  And  where  did  you  stay  at  Llandudno  ? 
Did  he  take  you  to  an  hotel  ? 

[fanny  does  not  rejAy. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN  [sJiarpIi/].     Now  then,  Fanny. 

JEFFCOTE.     Come  lass,  open  thy  mouth. 

ALAN.  All  right,  father.  I'll  answer  for  Fann)'. 
We  stop[)ed  at  St.  Elvies  Hotel,  Saturday  till 
Monday. 

JEFFCOTE.     What  did  you  stop  as  ? 

ALAN.     Man  and  wife. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN  [gratified].     Ah  ! 

ALAN.  You'll  find  it  in  the  register  if  you  go  there 
and  look  it  up. 

JEFFCOTE  [to  MRS.  jeffcote].  There.  Are  you 
satisfied  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Quite,  thank  you,  Nat.  That  was 
all  I  wanted  to  know.  I  didn't  want  there  to  be  any 
mistake. 

CHRISTOPHER.  There's  one  thing  bothering  me. 
That  postcard.  It  was  posted  in  Blackpool  on 
Sunday.  I  don't  see  how  you  managed  it  if  you  left 
on  Saturday. 

fanny.  I  wrote  it  beforehand  and  left  it  for  Mary 
to  post  on  Sunday  morning. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     So  Mary  was  in  at  all  this ! 


Ill]  HINDLE   WAKES  91 

FANNY.  If  Mary  hadn't  been  drowned  you'd  never 
have  found  out  about  it.  I'd  never  have  opened  my 
mouth,  and  Alan  knows  that. 

MKS.  HAWTHORN.  Well,  Mary's  got  her  reward, 
poor  lass ! 

CHRISTOPHER.  There's  more  in  this  than  chance, 
it  seems  to  me. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  The  wavs  of  the  Lord  are 
mysterious  and  wonderful.  We  can't  pretend  to 
understand  them.  He  used  Mary  as  an  instrument  for 
His  purpose. 

JEFFCOTE.  Happen.  But  if  He  did  it  seems  cruel 
hard  on  Mary,  like.  However,  it's  all  over  and  done 
with,  and  can't  be  mended  now,  worse  luck  !  These 
two  young  ones  have  made  fools  of  themselves.  That 
don't  matter  so  much.  The  worst  feature  of  it  is 
they've  made  a  fool  of  me.  We've  got  to  decide 
what's  to  be  done.  [To  MRS.  hawthorn]  I  gave 
Chris  a  message  for  you  last  night. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Yes,  you  said  as  how  you'd  see 
us  treated  right. 

JEFFCOTE.  That's  it.  That's  what  I'm  going  to 
do.  Now  what  do  you  reckon  is  the  right  way  to 
settle  this  job  ? 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  He  ought  to  marry  her.  I'll 
never  be  satisfied  with  owt  less. 

JEFFCOTE.     That's  your  idea,  too,  Chris  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.       Ay  ! 

JEFFCOTE.  It's  mine  as  well.  [mrs.  hawthorn  7iods 
eagerly.]  Before  I  knew  who  the  chap  was  I  said 
he  should  wed  her,  and  I'm  not  going  back  on  that 


92  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

now  I  find  he's  my  own  son.  The  missus  there  doesn't 
see  it  in  the  same  h<rht,  but  she'll  have  to  make  the 
best  of  it.     She's  in  a  minority  of  one,  as  they  say. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.    Then  we  may  take  it  that  Alan's 
aici'ecable  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  Wliether  he's  agreeable  or  not  I  cannot 
say.  He's  willing,  and  that'll  have  to  be  enough  for  you. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  You'll  cxcusc  me  mentioning  it, 
but  what  about  the  other  girl  ? 

JEFFCOTE.  What  other  girl  ?  Has  he  been  carry- 
ing on  with  another  one  as  well  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  She  meaus  Beatrice.  Alan  was 
engaged  to  Miss  Farrar. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Yes,  that's  it.    What  about  her  ? 

JEFFCOTE.    That's  off  now.    No  need  to  talk  of  that. 

CHRISTOPHER.    The  lad's  no  longer  engaged  to  her  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.       No. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  And  he's  quite  free  to  wed  our 
Fanny  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     He  is  so  far  as  we  know. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Then  the  sooner  it's  done  the 
better. 

JEFFCOTE.     We've  only  to  get  the  licence. 

CHRISTOPHER  [hrokcnli/].  I'm  sure — I'm  sure — 
we're  very  grateful. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN  [wij)ing  her  eyes].  Yes,  we  are 
indeed.  Though,  of  course,  it's  only  what  we'd  a 
right  to  expect. 

CHRISTOPHER.  I'm  sure,  Mrs.  Jeffcote,  that  you'll 
try  and  look  on  Fanny  more  kindly  in  time. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     I   hope   I  shall,  Mr.   Hawthorn. 


Ill]  HINDLE    WAKES  93 

Perhaps  it's  all  for  the  best.  More  unlikely  matches 
have  turned  out  all  right  in  the  end. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Tm  sure  there's  nothing  can  be 
said  against  Fanny  save  that  she's  got  a  will  of  her 
own.      And  after  all,  there's  a  many  of  us  have  that. 

CHRISTOPHER.  She's  always  been  a  good  girl  up  to 
now.     You  can  put  trust  in  her,  Alan. 

JEFFCOTE.  It's  evidently  high  time  Alan  got  wed, 
that's  all  I  can  say,  and  it  may  as  well  be  to  Fanny  as 
to  anyone  else.  She's  had  to  work  at  the  loom  for 
her  living,  and  that  does  no  woman  any  harm.  My 
missus  has  worked  at  the  loom  in  her  time,  though 
you'd  never  think  it  to  look  at  her  now,  and  if  Fanny 
turns  out  half  as  good  as  her,  Alan  won't  have  done 
so  badly.  Now  we've  got  to  settle  when  the  wedding's 
to  be. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     What  sort  of  wedding  is  it  to  be  .'' 

JEFFCOTE.     You  women  had  better  fix  that  up. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     It  ought  to  be  quiet. 

JEFFCOTE.  It'll  be  quiet,  you  may  lay  your  shirt 
on  that !  We  shan't  hold  a  reception  at  the  Town 
Hall  this  journey. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I  should  prefer  it  to  take  place  at 
the  Registrar's. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  No.  I'll  never  agree  to  that. 
Not  on  any  account. 

MRS.    JEFFCOTE.       Why  UOt  ? 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  No.  In  chui'ch,  if  you  please, 
with  the  banns  and  everything.  There's  been  enough 
irregular  work  about  this  job  already.  We'll  have  it 
done  properly  this  time. 


94  HINDLE  WAKES  [act 

ALAN.     I  should  like  to  hear  what  Fanny  says. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Fanny'll  do  what's  thought  best 
for  her. 

ALAN.  Anyhow,  we'll  hear  what  she  thinks  about 
it,  if  you  please. 

FANNY.     I  was  just  wondering  where  I  come  in. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  AVherc  you  come  in  ?  You're  a 
nice  one  to  talk  !  You'd  have  been  in  a  fine  mess, 
happen,  if  you  hadn't  had  us  to  look  after  you.  You 
ought  to  be  very  thankful  to  us  all,  instead  of  sitting 
there  hard  like. 

JEFFCOTE.  You'd  better  leave  it  to  us,  lass.  We'll 
settle  this  job  for  you. 

FANNY.  It's  very  good  of  you.  You'll  hire  the 
parson  and  get  the  licence  and  make  all  the  arrange- 
ments on  your  own  without  consulting  me,  and  I  shall 
have  nothing  to  do  save  turn  up  meek  as  a  lamb  at 
the  church  or  registry  office  or  whatever  it  is. 

JEFFCOTE.   That's  about  all  you'll  be  required  to  do. 

FANNY.  You'll  look  rather  foolish  if  that's  just 
what  I  won't  do. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Dou't  talk  silly,  Fanny. 

JEFFCOTE.     What  does  she  mean  by  that  ? 

MRS.  HAW^THORN.  Nothing.  She's  only  showing 
off,  like.     Don't  heed  her. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I  beg  your  pardon.  We  will 
heed  her,  if  you  please.  We'll  see  what  it  is  she 
means  by  that. 

JEFFCOTE.  Hark  you,  lass.  I'm  having  no  hanky- 
panky  work  now.  You'll  have  to  do  what  you're 
bid,  or  maybe  you'll  find  yourself  in  the  cart. 


Ill]  HINDLE   WAKES  95 

CHRISTOPHER.     Fanny,  you'll  not  tuni  stupid  now  ? 
FANNY.     It  doesn't  suit  me  to  let  you  settle  my 
affairs  without  so  nuich  as  consultino;  me. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Consulting  you  !  What  is  there 
to  consult  you  about,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  You  want 
to  marry  Alan,  I  suppose,  and  all  we're  talking  about 
is  the  best  way  to  bring  it  about. 

FANNY.     That's  just  where  you  make  the  mistake. 
I  don't  want  to  marry  Alan. 
JEFFCOTE.      Eh  ? 

FANNY.  And  what's  more,  I  haven't  the  least 
intention  of  marrying  him. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     She's  taken  leave  of  her  senses  ! 
[Thejj    are     all     surjmsed.     alan     is 
imzzled.      mrs.    jeffcote    visibly 
brightms. 
jeffcote.     Now  then,  what  the  devil  do  you  mean 
by  that  ? 

FANNY.  I  mean  what  I  say,  and  I'll  trouble  you  to 
talk  to  me  without  swearing  at  me.  I'm  not  one  of 
the  family  yet. 

jeffcote.     Well,  I'm  hanged  ! 

[He  is  much  more  polite  to  fanny  aftei- 
tJiis,  fur  she  has  impressed  him. 
But   now   he  rubs  his   head  and 
looks  round  queerly  at  the  others. 
CHRISTOPHER.     Why  won't  you  wed  him  ?     Have 
you  got  sunnnat  against  him  t 
FANNY,     lliat's  my  affair. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     But  you  must  give  us  a  reason. 
[fanny  remains  obstinately  silent. 


96  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

CHRISTOPHER.  It's  110  good  talking  to  her  when 
she's  in  this  mood.  I  know  her  better  than  you  do. 
She  won't  open  her  mouth,  no,  not  if  she  was  going  to 
be  hung. 

JEFFCOTE.  Dost  thou  nicaii  to  tell  me  that  all  us 
folk  are  to  stand  here  and  let  this  girl  beat  us  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.     Fanny'll  get  her  own  way. 

JEFFCOTE.     We'll  see. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  Why  shouldn't  she  have  her  o\\  n 
way  ?  I  don't  think  we  have  any  right  to  press  her  ; 
I  don't  really. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  All  you're  after  is  to  get  Alan 
out  of  the  hole  he's  in.     You  don't  care  about  Fanny. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  I'll!  soiTy  for  Fauiiy,  but  of  course 
I  care  more  about  my  own  child. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Well,  and  so  do  we. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  After  all,  she  knows  better  than 
we  do  whether  she  wants  to  marry  Alan. 

JEFFCOTE.  Now  then,  Alan,  what's  the  meaning 
of  this  > 

ALAN.     I  don't  know,  father. 

JEFFCOTE.  You've  not  been  getting  at  her  to-day 
and  wheedling  her  into  this  ? 

ALAN.  Good  Lord,  no  !  What  would  have  been 
the  good  of  that  ?     Besides  I  never  thought  of  it. 

JEFFCOTE.     Well,  I  can't  account  for  it ! 

ALAN.  Look  here,  father,  j  ust  let  me  have  a  talk 
to  her  alone.  It's  not  likely  she'll  care  to  speak  with 
all  you  folk  sitting  round. 

JEFFCOTE.  Do  you  reckon  she'll  open  her  mouth 
to  you  ? 


Ill]  HINDLE   WAKES  97 

ALAN.  I  can  but  try,  though  it's  true  she  never 
takes  much  notice  of  what  I  say. 

JEFFCOTE.  We'll  give  you  fifteen  minutes.  [He 
looks  at  his  icatch.]  If  thou  cannot  talk  a  lass 
round  in  that  time  thou  ought  to  be  jolly  well 
ashamed  of  thyself.  I  know  I  could  have  done  it 
when  I  was  thy  age.  Mother,  you'd  better  show 
Chris  and  his  missus  into  t'other  room  for  a  bit. 

[MRS.  JEFFCOTE  gnes  to  the  door. 

MKS.  JEFFCOTE.     Will  you  come  this  way,  please  ? 
[MRS.  JEFFCOTE   fioes  out,  foUowed  by 

CHRISTOPHER. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Now,  Fanny,  think  on  what 
you're  doing.  For  God's  sake,  have  a  bit  of  common 
sense  ! 

[fanny  is  silent,     mrs.  hawthorn  goes 
out. 

JEFFCOTE.  Fifteen  minutes.  And  if  you're  not 
done  then  we  shall  come  in  whether  or  not. 

[jEFFcoTE  goes  out. 

ALAN.  Look  here,  Fanny,  what's  all  this  nonsense 
about  ? 

FANNY.     What  nonsense  ? 

ALAN.  AVhy  won't  you  marry  me  ?  My  father's 
serious  enough.  He  means  it  when  he  says  he  wants 
you  to.  He's  as  stupid  as  a  mule  when  he  once  gets 
an  idea  into  his  head. 

FANNY.  As  if  I  didn't  know  that.  He's  like  you, 
for  that  matter ! 

ALAN.     Well,  then,  what  are  you  afraid  of  .'* 

FANNY.     Afraid  ?     Who  says  I  am  afraid  ? 

H.W.  G 


98  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

ALAN.     I  don't  see  what  else  it  can  be. 

FANNY.  You  can't  understand  a  girl  not  jumping 
at  you  when  she  gets  the  chance,  can  you  ? 

ALAN.  I  can't  understand  you  not  taking  me  when 
you  get  the  chance, 

FANNY.  How  is  it  you  aren't  going  to  marry 
Beatrice  Farrar  ? 

ALAN.     I  can't  marry  both  of  you. 

FANNY.     Weren't  you  fond  of  her  .'* 

ALAN.     Very. 

FANNY.     But  you  were  fonder  of  me — Eh  .'' 

ALAN.       Well 

FANNY.  Come  now,  3'ou  must  have  been  or  you 
wouldn't  have  given  her  up  for  me. 

ALAN.  I  gave  her  up  because  my  father  made 
me. 

FANNY.  Made  you  ?  Good  Lord,  a  chap  of  your 
age ! 

ALAN.  My  father's  a  man  who  will  have  his  own 
way. 

FANNY.  You  can  tell  him  to  go  and  hang  himself. 
He  hasn't  got  any  hold  over  you. 

ALAN.  That's  just  what  he  has.  He  can  keep  me 
short  of  brass. 

FANNY.     Earn  some  brass. 

ALAN.  Ay  !  I  can  earn  some  brass,  but  it'll  mean 
hard  work  and  it'll  take  time.  And,  after  all,  I  shan't 
earn  anything  like  what  I  get  now. 

FANNY.  Then  all  you  want  to  wed  me  for  is  what 
3"ou'll  get  with  me  ?  I'm  to  be  given  aw^ay  with  a 
pound  of  tea,  as  it  were  ? 


Ill]  HINDLE   WAKES  99 

ALAN.  No.  You  know  I  like  you,  Fanny — I'm 
fond  of  you. 

FANNY.  You  didn't  give  up  Beatrice  FaiTar  because 
of  me,  but  because  of  the  money. 

ALAN.  If  it  comes  to  that,  I  didn't  really  give  her 
up  at  all.  I  may  as  well  be  straight  with  you.  It 
was  she  that  gave  me  up. 

FANNY.  What  did  she  do  that  for  ?  Her  father's 
plenty  of  money,  and  she  can  get  round  hinii  I'll  bet, 
if  you  can't  get  round  yours. 

ALAN.  She  gave  me  up  because  she  thought  it  was 
her  duty  to. 

FANNY.  You  mean  because  she  didn't  fancy  my 
leavings. 

ALAN.  No.  Because  she  thought  you  had  the 
right  to  marry  me. 

FANNY.     Glory  !     She  must  be  queer  ! 

ALAN.  It  was  jolly  fine  of  her.  You  ought  to  be 
the  first  to  see  that. 

FANNY.  Fine  to  give  you  up  ?  [She  shrugs  her 
shoulders,  and  then  admits  grudgingly]  Well,  I 
reckon  it  was  a  sacrifice  of  a  sort.  That  is,  if  she 
loves  you.     If  I  loved  a  chap  I  wouldn't  do  that. 

ALAN.     You  would.     You're  doing  it  now. 

FANNY.      Eh  ? 

ALAN.  Women  are  more  unselfish  than  men  and 
no  mistake  ! 

FANNY.     What  are  you  getting  at  ? 

ALAN.     I  know  why  you  won't  marry  me. 

FANNY.  Do  you  ?  [She  smiles.]  Well,  spit  it 
out,  lad ! 

a2 


100  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

ALAN.   ^  You're  doing  it  for  my  sake. 

FANNY.     How  do  you  make  that  out  ? 

ALAN.     You  don't  want  to  spoil  my  life. 

FANNY.  Thanks !  Much  obliged  for  the  com- 
pliment. 

ALAN.  I'm  not  intending  to  say  anything  unkind, 
but  of  coui-se  it's  as  clear  as  daylight  that  you'd 
damage  my  prospects,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
You  can  see  that,  can't  you  ? 

FANNY.  Ay  !  I  can  see  it  now  you  point  it  out.  I 
hadn't  thought  of  it  before. 

ALAN.     Then,  that  isn't  why  you  refused  me  ? 

FANNY.     Sorr}'  to  disappoint  you,  but  it's  not. 

ALAN.     I  didn't  see  what  else  it  could  be, 

FANNY.  Don't  you  kid  yourself,  my  lad  !  It  isn't 
because  I'm  afraid  of  spoiling  your  life  that  I'm 
refusing  you,  but  because  I'm  afraid  of  spoiling 
mine  !     That  didn't  occur  to  you  ? 

ALAN.     It  didn't. 

FANNY.  You  never  thought  that  anybody  else 
could  be  as  selfish  as  yourself. 

ALAN.  I  may  be  very  conceited,  but  I  don't  see 
how  you  can  hurt  yourself  by  wedding  me.  You'd 
come  in  for  plenty  of  brass,  anyhow. 

FANNY.  I  don't  know  as  money's  much  to  go  by 
when  it  comes  to  a  job  of  this  sort.  It's  more 
important  to  get  the  right  chap. 

ALAN.     You  like  me  well  enough  ? 

FANNY.  Suppose  it  didn't  last  ?  Weddings  brought 
about  this  road  have  a  knack  of  turning  out  badly. 
Would  you  ever  forget  it  was  your  father  bade  you 


Ill]  HINDLE   WAKES  101 

marry  me  ?  No  fear !  You'd  bear  me  a  grudge  all 
my  life  for  that. 

ALAN.  Hang  it !  I'm  not  such  a  cad  as  you  make  out. 

FANNY.  You  wouldn't  be  able  to  help  it.  It 
mostly  happens  that  road.  Look  at  old  Mi's.  East- 
wood— hers  was  a  case  like  ours.  Old  Joe  Eastwood's 
father  made  them  wed.  And  she's  been  separated 
from  him  these  thirty  years,  living  all  alone  in  that 
big  house  at  Valley  Edge.  Got  any  aniomit  of  brass, 
she  has,  but  she's  so  lonesome-like  she  does  her  own 
housework  for  the  sake  of  something  to  occupy  her 
time.  The  tradesfolk  catch  her  washing  the  front 
steps.  You  don't  find  me  making  a  mess  of  my  life 
like  that. 

ALAN.  Look  here,  Fanny,  I  promise  you  I'll  treat 
you  fair  all  the  time.  You  don't  need  to  fear  that 
folk '11  look  down  on  you.  We  shall  have  too  much 
money  for  that. 

FANNY.  I  can  manage  all  right  on  twenty-five  bob 
a  week. 

ALAN.  Happen  you  can.  It's  not  the  brass 
altogether.     You  do  like  me,  as  well,  don't  you  ? 

FANNY.  Have  you  only  just  thought  of  that  part 
of  the  bargain  .'' 

ALAN.  Don't  be  silly.  I  thought  of  it  long  ago. 
You  do  like  me  ?  You  wouldn't  have  gone  to 
Llandudno  with  me  if  you  hadn't  liked  me  .'' 

FANNY.    Oh  !  yes,    I  liked  you. 

ALAN.     And  don't  you  like  me  now  ? 

FANNY.  You're  a  nice,  clean,  well-made  lad.  Oh, 
ay  !  I  like  you  right  enough. 


102  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

ALAN.     Then,  Fanny,  for  God's  sake,  marry  me,  and 
let's  get  this  job  settled. 
FANNY.     Not  me ! 

ALAN.  But  you  must.  Don't  you  see  ifs  your 
duty  to. 

FANNY.  Oh  !  come  now,  you  aren't  going  to  start 
preaching  to  me  ? 

ALAN.  No.  I  don't  mean  duty  in  the  way 
Beatrice  did.  I  mean  your  duty  to  me.  You've  got 
me  into  a  hole,  and  it's  only  fair  you  should  get  me 
out. 

FANNY.     I  like  your  cheek  ! 

ALAN.  But  just  look  here.  I'm  going  to  fall 
between  two  stools.  It's  all  up  with  Beatrice,  of 
course.  And  if  you  won't  have  me  I  shall  have 
parted  from  her  to  no  purpose ;  besides  getting 
kicked  out  of  the  house  by  my  father,  more  than 
likely  ! 

FANNY.  Nay,  nay  !  He'll  not  punish  you  for  this. 
He  doesn't  know  it's  your  fault  I'm  not  willing  to 
wed  you. 

ALAN.  He  may.  It's  not  fair,  but  it  would  be 
father  all  over  to  do  that. 

FANNY.  He'll  be  only  too  pleased  to  get  shut  of 
me  without  eating  his  own  words.  He'll  forgive  you 
on  the  spot,  and  you  can  make  it  up  with  Beatrice 
to-morrow. 

ALAN.     I  can  never  make  it  up  with  Bee ! 
FANNY.     Get  away ! 

ALAN.  You  won't  understand  a  girl  like  Bee.  I 
couldn't  think  of  even  trying  for  months,  and  then  it 


Ill]  HIXDLE    WAKES  103 

may  be  too  late.  I'm  not  the  only  pebble  on  the 
beach.     And  I'm  a  damaged  one,  at  that ! 

FANNY.     She's  fond  of  you,  you  said  ? 

ALAN.     Yes.     I  think  she's  very  fond  of  me. 

FANNY.     Then  she'll  make  it  up  in  a  fortnight. 

ALAN  [moodih/].  You  said  you  were  fond  of  me 
once,  but  it  hasn't  taken  you  long  to  alter. 

FANNY.  All  women  aren't  built  alike.  Beatrice  is 
religious.  She'll  be  sorry  for  you.  I  was  fond  of 
you  in  a  way. 

ALAN.     But  you  didn't  ever  really  love  me  ? 

FANNY^.  Love  you  ?  Good  heavens,  of  course  not ! 
Why  on  eaiih  should  I  love  you  ?  You  were  just 
someone  to  have  a  bit  of  fun  with.  You  were  an 
amusement — a  lark. 

ALAN  [shocked],  Fanny !  Is  that  all  you  cared  for  me  ? 

FANNY.     How  much  more  did  you  care  for  me  ? 

ALAN.     But  it's  not  the  same.     I'm  a  man. 

FANNY.  You're  a  man,  and  I  was  your  little  fancy. 
Well,  I'm  a  woman,  and  yo2i  were  my  little  fancy. 
You  wouldn't  prevent  a  woman  enjoying  herself  as 
well  as  a  man,  if  she  takes  it  into  her  head  ? 

ALAN.  But  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  didn't 
care  any  more  for  me  than  a  fellow  cares  for  any  girl 
he  happens  to  pick  up  ? 

FANNY.     Yes.     Are  you  shocked  ? 

ALAN.     It's  a  bit  thick  ;  it  is  really  ! 

FANNY.     You're  a  beauty  to  talk  ! 

ALAN.  It  sounds  so  jolly  immoral.  I  never  thought 
of  a  girl  looking  on  a  chap  just  like  that !  I  made 
sure  you  wanted  to  marry  me  if  you  got  the  chance. 


104  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

FANNY.  No  fear !  You're  not  good  enough  for 
me.  The  chap  Fanny  Hawthorn  weds  has  got  to  be 
made  of  different  stuff  from  you,  my  lad.  My 
husband,  if  ever  I  have  one,  will  be  a  man,  not  a 
fellow  who'll  throw  over  his  girl  at  his  father's 
bidding;  !  Strikes  me  the  sons  of  these  rich  manu- 
facturers  are  all  much  alike.  They  seem  a  bit  weak 
in  the  upper  storey.  It's  their  fathers'  brass  that's 
too  much  for  them,  happen  !  They  don't  know  how 
to  spend  it  properly.  They're  like  chaps  who  can't 
carry  their  drink  because  they  aren't  used  to  it.  The 
brass  gets  into  their  heads,  like  ! 

ALAN.     Hang  it,  Fanny,  Fm  not  quite  a  fool. 

FANNY.  No.  You're  not  a  fool  altogether.  But 
there's  summat  lacking.  You're  not  man  enough 
for  me.  You're  a  nice  lad,  and  Fm  fond  of  you. 
But  I  couldn't  ever  marry  you.  We've  had  a  right 
good  time  together,  Fll  never  forget  that.  It  has 
been  a  right  good  time,  and  no  mistake !  We've 
enjoyed  ourselves  proper  !  But  all  good  times  have 
to  come  to  an  end,  and  ours  is  over  now.  Come 
along,  now,  and  bid  me  farewell. 

ALAN.  I  can't  make  you  out  rightly,  Fanny,  but 
you're  a  damn  good  sort,  and  I  wish  there  were  more 
like  you  ! 

FANNY  [holding  out  her  hand].     Good-bye,  old  lad. 

ALAN  [grasping  Iter  hand].  Good-bye,  Fanny ! 
And  good  luck  ! 

[.-1  slight  pause. 

FANNY.     And  now  call  them  in  again. 

ALAN  [looking  at  Ids  watch].     Time's  not  up  yet. 


Ill]  HINDLE   WAKES  105 

1^ ■ — -    ■  ~ 

FANNY.     Never  heed  !     Let's  get  it  over. 

[alan  goes  out,  and  fanny  returns  to 
her  chair  and  sits  down.  Pre- 
sently ALAN  comes  in  and  stands 
hij  the  door,  whilst  mrs.  jeffcote, 

MRS.  HAWTHORN,  and  CHRISTOPHER 

Jile  in  and  resume  their  original 
jwsitions.  Last  of  all  comes 
JEFFCOTE,  and  ALAN  leaves  the 
door  and  goes  back  to  his  chair. 
JEFFCOTE  comes  straight  behind 
the  table. 
JEFFCOTE.     Well  ?     What's  it  to  be  ? 

[alan  and  fanny  look  at  each  other. 
Come.     AVhat's  it  to  be  ?     You,  Fanny,  have  you 
come  to  your  senses  ? 

Faxn"?.     I've  never  left  them,  so  far  as  I  know. 
JEFFCOTE.     Are  you  going  to  wed  our  Alan  or  are 
you  not  ? 

FANNY.    I'm  not. 

JBFFCOTE.       Ah  ! 

MRS.    HAWTHORN.       Well  ! 

ALAN.  It's  no  good,  father.  I  can't  help  it.  I've 
done  all  I  can.     She  won't  have  me. 

JEFFCOTE.  I'm  beat  this  time!  I  wash  my  hands 
of  it !  There's  no  fathoming  a  woman.  And  these 
are  the  creatures  that  want  us  to  give  them  votes! 

{After  this  jeffcote  does  not  attempt 
to  influence  the  discussion. 
MRS.  HAWTHORN  [in  a  shrill  voice].    Uo  you  tell  us 
you're  throwing  away  a  chance  like  this  ? 


106  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

FANNY.     You've  heard. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  I  Call  it  wickccl,  I  do,  indeed  !  I 
can  see  you  are  do\viiri<^ht  bad,  through  and  through  ! 
There's  one  thing  I  tell  you  straight.  Our  house  is 
no  place  for  thee  after  this. 

FANNY.  You're  not  really  angry  with  me  because 
of  what  I've  done.  It's  because  I'm  not  going  to 
have  any  of  Mr.  Jeffcote's  money  that  you  want  to 
turn  me  out  of  the  house. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  It's  not !  It's  becauscyou  choose 
to  be  a  girl  who's  lost  her  reputation,  instead  of 
letting  Alan  make  you  into  an  honest  woman. 

FANNY.     How  can  he  do  that  ? 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     By  wedding  you,  of  course. 

FANNY.  You  called  him  a  blackguard  this 
morning. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.     So  lie  is  a  blackguard. 

FANNY.  I  don't  see  how  marrying  a  blackguard  is 
eoine  to  turn  me  into  an  honest  woman ! 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  If  he  marries  you  he  won't  be  a 
blackguard  any  longer. 

FANNY.  Then  it  looks  as  if  I'm  asked  to  wed  him 
to  turn  him  into  an  honest  man  ? 

ALAN.  It's  no  use  bandying  words  about  what's 
over  and  done  with.  I  want  to  know  what's  all  this 
talk  of  turning  Fanny  out  of  doors  ? 

CHRISTOPHER.  Take  no  heed  of  it !  My  missus 
don't  rightly  know  what  she's  saying  just  now. 

MRS.  HAWTHORN.  Don't  she?  You're  making  a 
big  mistake  if  you  think  that.  Fanny  can  go  home 
and  fetch  her  things,  and  after  that  she  may  pack  off  I 


Ill]  HINDI.E   WAKES  107 

CHRISTOPHER.     That  she'll  not! 
MRS.  HAWTHORN.     Then  I'll  make  it  so  hot  for  her 
in  the  house,  and  for  thee,  too,  that  thou'll  be  glad  to 
see  the  back  of  her  ! 

FANNY.  This  hasn't  got  anything  to  do  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Jeffcote,  has  it  ? 

[fanny  rises. 
ALAN.     It's  got  something  to  do  with  me,  though  ! 
I'm  not  going  to  see  you  without  a  home, 

FANNY  [smilinc/].  It's  right  good  of  you,  Alan,  but 
I  shan't  starve.  I'm  not  without  a  trade  at  my  finger 
tips,  thou  knows.  I'm  a  Lancashire  lass,  and  so  long 
as  there's  weaving  sheds  in  Lancashire  I  shall  earn 
enough  brass  to  keep  me  going.  I  wouldn't  live  at 
home  again  after  this,  not  anyhow  !  I'm  going  to  be 
on  my  own  in  future.  [To  Christopher]  You've 
no  call  to  be  afraid.  I'm  not  going  to  disgrace  you. 
But  so  long  as  I've  to  live  my  own  life  I  don't  see 
why  I  shouldn't  choose  what  it's  to  be. 

CHRISTOPHER  [risiiig].  We're  in  the  road  here ! 
Come,  Sarah  ! 

JEFFCOTE.  I'm  sorry,  Chris.  I've  done  my  best 
for  thee. 

CHRISTOPHER.     Ay  !  I  kuow.     I'm  grateful  to  thee, 
Nat.     [To  MRS.  jeffcote]  Good-night,  ma'am. 
MRS.  jeffcote.     Good-night. 

[MRS.  HA^^^:HORN  and  Christopher  go 
out,  the  former  seething  ivith  sup- 
pressed resentment.  Neither  says 
anything  to  alan.  jeffcote  opens 
the  door  for  them  and  follows  them 


108  HINDLE   WAKES  [act 

into  the  hall.     As  fanny  is  going 

out  MRS.  JEFFCOTK  Spcaks, 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Good-bje,  Fanny  Hawthorn.     If 
ever  you  want  help,  come  to  me. 

FANNY.     Ah  !     You  didn't  want  us  to  wed  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.       No, 

FANNY.     You  were  straight  enough. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     I'm  sure  this  is  the  best  way  out. 
I  couldn't  see  any  hope  the  other  way. 

FANNY.     Good-bye. 

[MRS.  JEFFCOTE  holcls  out  her  Jmnd,  and 
they  shake  hands.  Then  fanny 
goes  out  icith  alan.  There  is  a 
slight  pause.  MRS.  jeffcote  goes 
to  the  door  and  looks  into  the  hall, 
and  then  returns  to  her  chair. 
Soon  JEFFCOTE  comcs  in. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Have  they  gone  ? 

JEFFCOTE.      Ay ! 

[jEFFCOTE  sits  dowu  in  an  arm-chair 
and  fills  his  pipe. 
MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Where's  Alan  ? 
JEFFCOTE.     Don't  know. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     What  are  you  going  to  do  about 
him  ? 

JEFFCOTE.     Don't  know. 

[alan    opens    the   door   and  looks  in. 
He  is  icearing   a   light  burberry 
mackintosh  and  a  soft  felt  hat. 
MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Where  are  you  going  to,  Alan  ? 
ALAN.     Fm  just  running  round  to  Farrar's. 


Ill]  HINDLE   WAKES  109 

JEFFCOTE  [surprised].     To  Farrar's  ? 

ALAN.     To  see  Beatrice. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE  [not  Surprised].  You're  going  to 
ask  her  to  marry  you  ? 

ALAN  [laconicalli/].     Happen  I  am  ! 

JEFFCOTE.  Well,  I'm  damned !  Dost  thou  reckon 
she'll  have  thee  ? 

ALAN.     That  remains  to  be  seen, 

JEFFCOTE.     Aren't  you  reckoning  without  me  ? 

ALAN.     Can't  help  that. 

[JEFFCOTE  grunts. 

ALAN.  Hang  it !  be  fair.  I've  done  my  best.  It's 
not  my  fault  that  Fanny  won't  have  me. 

JEFFCOTE.  Well,  if  Beatrice  Farrar  can  fancy  thee, 
it's  not  for  me  to  be  too  particular. 

ALAN.     Thank  you,  father. 

JEFFCOTE.     Get  along  !     I'm  disgusted  with  thee  ! 

[alan  slips  out  of  the  door. 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     Beatrice  will  have  him. 

JEFFCOTE.     How  do  you  know  that  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.     She  loves  him  ;  she  told  me. 

JEFFCOTE.  There's  no  accounting  for  tastes  !  [He 
I'umijiates.]  So  Beatrice  loves  him,  does  she?  Eh! 
but  women  are  queer  folk  !  Who'd  have  thought 
that  Fanny  would  refuse  to  wed  him  ? 

MRS.  JEFFCOTE.  It  is  strange.  It  makes  you  feel 
there  is  something  in  Providence  after  all. 

THE    CURTAIN    FALLS 


BRADBURY,  AGNEW,  &  CO.   LD.,  PRINTERS, 
LONDON   ANa   TONBRIDGE. 


-<'         AA    000  640  932 

7  (p-T 


IVERSITY  OF  CA,  RIVERSIDE  LIBRARY 


3  1210  01276  71 


